


Untangle Me

by cruelest_month



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Companionable Snark, Grey Wardens, Kittens, Knitting, M/M, Mages need love too, Nonsense, Romance, Team Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-04 08:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruelest_month/pseuds/cruelest_month
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Blight forced Leif Amell to grow up and become a hero. His reward is an Arldom he doesn’t want, a troubled conscience he didn’t need, and a loneliness that he cannot shake.</p><p>When he sees Anders again, he knows he can’t ignore his feelings or let another opportunity slip through his fingers. Regardless of uncertainties and shared memories of Kinloch Hold, Leif is determined to pursue something not only for Anders but also for himself.</p><p>(Takes place during the events of Dragon Age:  Origins - Awakening.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

“I don’t make you nervous,” Anders observed as they fought through another wave of darkspawn.

“Pardon?”

“Anymore,” Anders continued with a grin. “Or at least not as much as I did. You were so sweet and so shy. You never made eye contact. You’d stare at my hands.”

“Anders…”

“I’m so pleased to see you here even if I haven’t managed to get much from you outside of a small smile and stoic nod. And a blush. Are you still shy then?”

“Do you always talk this much?” Mhairi asked.

Anders laughed and electrocuted the last of the hurlocks in their immediate vicinity. “When properly motivated, which I currently am. You wouldn’t think it, darling, but this handsome Commander was once the most adorable little bookworm. With two braids in his hair and ill-fitting robes that left virtually everything to the imagination.”

Mhairi gave up frowning and considered Leif in a way that made him feel decidedly awkward.

“Please stop telling her this,” Leif murmured, realizing he ought to do something besides stand there blinking like a startled halla. He hadn’t thought about or missed his braids in recent months, but he found himself wishing his hair was still as long as it had been in those days if only so he could hide behind it.

Oghren guffawed as he joined them. “Don’t stop. It’s getting interesting.”

“I’m surprised you remember,” Leif added. “I mean, all things considered.”

Anders set a hand on Leif’s shoulder. “You think I don’t remember the handful of people who spoke to me back then? I do. I remember you and I’m glad to see you’ve done so well for yourself. I mean that.”

Leif began to say something then Mhairi had spotted a dying soldier and after that, they’d had a great deal more trouble to contend with. Even so Anders continued to make quiet but sneaky and flattering observations that left Leif at a loss but he was able to focus on the task at hand in spite or maybe because of the compliments. After all who didn’t like being told they looked good in red or that it would be an absolute crime against the Maker himself to ever wear a robe with sleeves again.

Oghren complained that his eyes were about to roll out of his skull if the mage kept up the sweet talk. Mhairi just sighed on occasion, looking resigned and skeptical.

When they were finally done with the last and worst of the Keep’s infestation, Leif rubbed his temples and tried to forget all about Anders in order to consider what was going on in terms of the darkspawn. It wasn’t hard to do considering that he’d just talked to a Hurlock named the First, which obviously meant there were more somewhere nearby.

He felt exhausted, truth be told. He felt as if he hadn’t slept since that brief moment when, after defeating the Archdemon, he’d fallen to the ground, eyes rolling back in his skull as darkness claimed him.

He hadn’t expected that the rest of his life would be a quiet one given the way it would undoubtedly end. He wasn’t naïve enough to think Amaranthine was any sort of reward for services rendered under Queen and country, but he hadn’t expected to be fighting the same fight over again. No. Not the same fight. The Blight was over, surely. It had to be over. 

“Varel is on the mend and you’ve blood… Well, everywhere,” Anders gently observed from Leif’s immediate left. “But let me get this spot for you.”

He gently wiped under Leif’s eye then took his time getting flecks of blood from the other mage’s cheek. “Would you prefer your headache to sort itself out on its own?”

Leif chuckled bleakly. “Which headache are we talking about?”

Anders shook his head. His expression softened a bit from flirtatious to thoughtful. Then he brought a set of glowing fingers up, letting them rest against Leif’s forehead. “So how did you leave the Circle? One of the downsides to solitary confinement and being a very, very bad mage is that they never tell you anything.”

“It’s… Not a pleasant story.”

“It never is.”

“Then I’ll tell you. Later.”

“All right but don’t worry. I’m not looking for pointers. Although I don’t suppose they could hurt.”

“How many escapes does this make?”

“Seven. Now. Considering the forlorn look on your face less than a moment ago, I’m guessing Grey Wardening is a fairly thankless task.”

“My oath of sacrifice, service, and vigilance provides others with some measure of peace.”

“You’re Arl in addition to a Commander.”

“For the time being.”

“Are those titles that you wanted?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, I do envy you your freedom even if there are a great deal of strings attached.”

“I’ve been lucky and fortunate,” Leif agreed. “In many ways.”

“Are you happy?”

Leif breathed out a sigh and decided to be honest. Mhairi was speaking to Varel and Oghren wasn’t the sort who expected others to put on some sort of brave or comforting act. “Somewhat. Not as happy as I thought I’d be. I’m sure that sounds ungrateful.”

“Hardly,” Anders replied. “Not on your part, at least. I would have thought the Hero of Ferelden was owed a great deal more than some small modicum of happiness.”

-

Alistair and Leliana were watching him closely as the exchange with Ser Rylock became more and more heated. He’d been glad to see them marching up to Vigil’s Keep alongside the Queen, but he couldn’t help feeling that Alistair was there, in part, to make sure his best friend played the role of Commander of the Grey to the best of his abilities.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Varel giving the Templar a disapproving look as her intense need for justice gave way to a deeper desire for vengeance.

Giving Anders over was unacceptable for more reasons than Leif cared to go into, but he struggled inwardly with a conflicting sense of his duty as a Commander and a desire to protect Anders regardless of whether it was right for the Order or not. Worst of all, Leif knew that his choice, whatever he chose, came overburdened with consequences.

The choices weren’t the same, but since the stakes were relatively as high, Leif found himself thinking of Jowan. Of the mess they’d both made of themselves and their friendship. He would always regret going to Irving and choosing the tower over his best friend, but he would have regretted being used in some foolish scheme just as much. Particularly a scheme that helped Jowan but virtually guaranteed a savage and possibly lethal punishment for his co-conspirator whose phylactery was stored in Denerim.

As time went by and he developed friendships with others, he’d felt less guilty, of course. Leliana and Morrigan had both pointed out just how well and truly manipulated he’d been by all sides. The anger he’d felt at his own shortcomings and misgivings were nothing compared to how he felt about Jowan’s betrayal but that too was nothing compared to the sorrow he’d felt when he learned that Jowan had eventually consented to being made Tranquil.

 _I’m not making Anders Tranquil_ , he sternly reminded himself. _I’m not making him free, but I’m not making him incapable of choosing. I’m not._

“Are you going to say something, Commander?” Anora asked. The look she was giving him indicated a considerable amount of impatience.

Under other circumstances, he might have managed a sheepish smile, but the occasion hardly seemed to warrant one. “I am, your majesty. My apologies. I hereby conscript this man into the Grey Wardens.”

Leif forced himself not to duck his head as he waited to see who would attempt to strangle or yell at him first. No one did though.

_You’re in charge, you fool. Of course no one is going to scold you. This whole mess is yours now and it is up to you to solve it._

The Templar looked startled then merely inconvenienced. “Your Majesty, the Commander is a mage and from Kinloch Hold as well. Normally I wouldn’t question the Right of Conscription, I believe that his judgment in this matter is most assuredly clouded.”

“With respect, Ser Rylock,” Leif said, “my judgment is no more or less clouded than yours.”

“This apostate is a murderer.”

“I do not believe he is, but it is not of any relevance. Grey Wardens don’t have the luxury of discrimination when it comes to allies and recruits. And you’d do well to remember that the hordes of darkspawn don’t discriminate when it comes to their enemies.”

“Your opinion may carry a great deal of weight with many, Commander, but it doesn’t matter to me,” Rylock growled out. “You are preventing me from fulfilling a sacred obligation to the Maker.”

“I do not pretend to know the Maker’s divine plan,” Leif growled back, “but I seem to recall that magic exists to serve man and I have served man quite faithfully of late. I will invoke the Right of Conscription whenever I must in order to serve again.”

“Why are we still talking to some nug-humping Templar?” Oghren demanded to know. “Get back to your Chantry, girlie, and let us get back to killing.”

Rylock clenched her gauntlet-covered hands. “I will not tolerate—”

“Ser Rylock, control yourself or else be silent,” Anora said in a cold, imperious tone. She took no notice of Oghren whatsoever as if not giving him any attention would magically force him out of existence. “Whatever else he might be, Commander Amell is a Grey Warden. We may not care for his methods, but his loyalty and service to the people of Ferelden are both above question and scrutiny.”

“Your majesty, if he were asking for anyone else—”

The Queen sighed. “The Right of Conscription is available to the Wardens at all times and for all people. Seneschal Varel mentioned not half a moment ago that their ranks must be restored. I can think of no greater justice for this man than asking him to serve in the place of the fallen. That includes the Templars who died here today.”

 “If… If your majesty thinks that it is best.”

Rylock stormed off and Anora imperiously took her leave moments later.

Anders seemed stunned, Oghren seemed thrilled, and Mhairi seemed relieved to have an additional companion.

“That’s just how Duncan would have done it,” Alistair said in a low, admiring tone. “Without the long awkward pause of inner turmoil, mind you, but still.”

Leif flinched, relieved when Alistair didn’t appear to notice. He’d admired the other Warden greatly, but the thought of being like the man Duncan had had to be... Of becoming less and less capable of compassion in the face of obligation and sacrifice, wasn’t very flattering. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from "Come and Find Me" by Josh Ritter. (And I keep me in a vacant lot / In the ivy and forget-me-nots / Hoping you will come and untangle me one of these days)
> 
> I could not resist writing about an Amell Warden in love with Anders. And this fic/series will also continue on into Dragon Age II because really my favorite aspect of an Amell Warden is the idea of him/her meeting up with Hawke & Family & Co. 
> 
> I have half of the fic that will take place during Awakening already written and I'm working on the next half. But I couldn't put off posting any longer. Even if I'm nervous as hell about this monstrosity!
> 
> For a visual reference, I sort of picture Leif Amell looking a bit like [aramaki](http://www.y-gallery.net/gallery/aramaki/)'s Oliver Hawke as pictured [here](http://www.y-gallery.net/files/data/8/85/853365-20120107160319.jpg) and [here](http://www.y-gallery.net/files/data/8/83/837491-20111022134703.jpg/aramaki%20-%20Sleep%20well%20beloved.jpg/aramaki%20-%20something%20to%20remember.jpg). But with freckles. Because.


	2. Chapter Two

After a tour of the Keep and introductions with various nobles, Leif ate a light supper with his friends and new recruits. The Joining was only hours away and he wondered if he was meant to come up with a task for his charges, but he decided they had done more than enough to prove themselves ready.

He watched as everyone chatted and squabbled and supped around him. His own appetite was nonexistent and he found himself missing his other companions, particularly Sten and Shale who felt that silence was a superior form of communication. Alistair and Leliana exchanged a few conspiratorial looks and words before allowing Mhari to riddle them with questions. Oghren continued to drink and flirt with poor Mhari. Anders had tried his hand at coaxing a smile from her but the warrior resolutely refused to pay much attention to either dwarf or mage.

Once Oghren had gone back to making love to his ale, Anders considered his options. Then he moved several benches down in order to sit next to Leif.

“I didn’t notice before but you have freckles now,” Anders said with a smile, running a finger over the bridge of Leif’s nose. “You’re less pale and more dusky. It’s very becoming. Or handsome if you prefer to be thought of as handsome.”

“Handsome will do.”

“Right,” Anders agreed. “The suspense is killing me so I have to ask. Which one is your lover? The bard or the Templar?”

Leif glanced over to make sure no one else was paying attention before shaking his head. “Alistair’s not a Templar. He has some training but not much and he’s a Grey Warden.”

“It’s still the stuff of torrid forbidden romances what with the whole saving the world from peril angle. Perhaps the Orlesian would suit you better though. She seems to dote on you.”

 “They’re just dear friends,” Leif said. “I’m not with either one of them.”

He had longed and subsequently pined for Alistair for months before realizing it was a lost cause. Alistair seemed to prefer to be willfully oblivious even if his sexual preferences remained entirely unclear. Leliana and Morrigan fought over Leif before he could decide how he felt for either one of them, which had been perplexing rather than anything remotely approaching romantic. Yes, he had taken the time to talk to Leliana about shoes and stars. And he had spoken at length to Morrigan about shape-shifting and running away from Templars as well, but he rather assumed they understood he was more inclined towards men.

Being not at all eager to pursue a life of chastity in or out of the Circle, Leif had often entertained the notion of taking Zevran to his tent. He’d always hesitated, certain that anything they attempted would only end in misery or disaster. Zevran didn’t want a deep abiding affection any more than he would have loved having a yoke permanently affixed to his neck.

So the Warden kept himself from taking a gamble and trying to convince the assassin that having a heart didn’t mean you would end up getting stabbed in it. Because Leif wanted more than that. He wanted something foolish and sentimental like the ballads Leliana sang. He wanted the sort of love that became a refuge, a safe place, rather than one more way to suffer.

And because deep down he still harbored the most pathetic sort of crush on Anders. Pointless too as they hadn’t even the smallest of interests in common. Not to mention the fact that, Leif had been unable to so much as manage a sentence when the older mage spoke to him.

“Please don’t tell me it was the Quanari who traveled with you. I heard rumors but—”

“What? No,” Leif insisted, torn between embarrassment and amusement. “Sten became my friend but…no. Never.”

Anders laughed. “Fair enough. But… no one then? You’ve never…”

“I’ve been rather busy,” Leif replied, trying not to sound as defensive as he felt. “There was a Blight going on, you know.”

“Maker’s Breath, what is the world coming to?” Anders muttered. “You fought all that time and helped all those people… Surely someone looks after you or wants to.”

“I hardly think I need a minder or a manservant.”

“Not like that,” Anders insisted. “I only meant that someone like you ought to have someone.”

“Isn’t that true of everyone?”

“I should think that it would be truer in the case of heroes who have to constantly sally forth into an ungrateful world full of all sorts of loathsome people,” Anders said with a frown. “Someone ought to be there when you come home stained in blood and exhausted from honor.”

Leif shrugged.

“Is this where you quote your oath and tell me to mind my business?”

“It will be your oath soon enough.”

“Please don’t remind me,” Anders muttered. “Honestly. I’ll just run out the back door if I think about it.”

Leif smiled faintly. “Fair enough. As far as my lack of romantic entanglements, I can’t think of any particular reason why. I don’t know why I haven’t found someone. I don’t know if I’ve looked as hard as I ought to. I couldn’t in the Circle and I can’t seem to now.”

“The Circle makes it very difficult. I had a few partners and I cared for many of them, one in particular…” Anders paused, letting the sentence trail away into nothing as he sighed wistfully. “Even so it’s hard to imagine finding much of anything in some Chantry-sponsored fortress that won’t eventually be used against you.”

Leif considered this, still uncertain as to how he felt about the Circle even after all this time. His mother had been a mage and an elf of some kind, but he’d been snatched from her early on, before she could give him anything save a name. Amell was all he’d been given from his father, but even that shed no real light on the matter.

Leif’s first clear memory was of Kinloch Hold. He’d been pleased at how quickly he’d been praised for his talents and cleverness. He’d been eager to prove himself worthy of attention from any and all of the Enchanters. Irving and the other Enchanters had been kind. Even Gregoir wasn’t too difficult to contend with so long as a mage remained honest and decent. And Leif hadn’t possessed any sort of rebellious streak. He had always obeyed the rules and his elders even when they led him slightly astray.

Anders cupped Leif’s cheek briefly, looking thoughtful. “It hardly matters now, does it? There’s time.”

Leif hesitated then nodded woodenly.

“Andraste’s tits, I’m an idiot,” Anders sighed heavily. “You should have told me to leave it alone or to shut up. Or to sod off, really. You’re a Commander and I tend to have a bad case of foot-mouth at the best of times.”

Leif blinked. “What?”

“Jowan,” Anders gently clarified, with a look that suggested that he was wary of Leif spontaneously bursting into tears. “And he’s… Even so it’s nothing to be ashamed of. He probably made the best choice he could in returning to the Circle. He seemed fond of you in a clumsy, clingy sort of way.”

Leif looked down, shrugging his shoulders. Thinking about Jowan was painful but he felt he’d shed enough bitter tears about his first friend to last a lifetime. “He had… There was a girl he liked and he let her down in the worst way. Once he left the Circle, nothing got better and everything went wrong for him. I think in the end he just wanted it all to go away. And even before things took a turn for the tragic, Jowan wasn’t exactly my type.”

Anders smirked. “And who was your type?” As if his type were some sort of mystery yet to be solved.

Leif rolled his eyes. “Shut it, Anders.”

The other mage laughed. “All right, Commander. But I still want to know about how you left and what happened after. You’re the same and yet so different. It’s intriguing. You’ll tell me after the Joining?”

Leif swallowed hard, mumbling some sort of affirmative. He nodded thankfully when Anders re-filled his glass with wine then stared at nothing in particular once the other mage had left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the weather is making me miserable, I will probably post another chapter tonight. 
> 
> I hope summarizing a great deal of Awakening's events in subsequent chapters won't really take away from anyone's enjoyment of the story. I just can't bring myself to make this fic even longer by writing out too many of the dialogue sequences actually found in the game. Right now I'm working on scenes with the Architect but there's roughly 42 pages between that and this chapter here.


	3. Chapter Three

The Joining took considerably more out of Leif than even he had expected. He fought against relief that anyone had survived and allowed himself to dwell for a moment or two on sorrow for Mhairi. They would fight on in her name and thanks to sacrifice, but he wished she’d lived long enough to fight a few more battles.

He checked on Oghren who had been considerably fevered and even more short-tempered than normal. Anders seemed to be the least affected by the ordeal but then the Harrowing had been worse in many respects. It was the nightmares that had tormented Leif. Still tormented him if he was honest.

Guilt kept him from lingering with either of the new Wardens. He spoke instead to Varel, Madam Woolsey, and a Guard Captain before retiring to his rather spacious quarters.

Winter’s Breath was propped up against the wall near the door. Spellweaver hung on the wall over the fireplace for although Leif had enjoyed learning to be an Arcane Warrior, his progress continued to be frustratingly slow due to lack of a proper teacher.  

Leif was very good at magic, advanced well beyond his years, but he had his specialties. Elemental spells, in particular, had always come so easily to him. And while he had more patience with wielding a magic sword than he ever had with advanced healing spells or shape-shifting of any kind, he was beginning to think it was an exercise in frustrated futility.

The chamber itself was full of ridiculously expensive Orlesian things including but not limited to ornate tapestries, a writing desk made of ivory and covered carvings of virtually every woodland animal in existence, a fainting chaise that seemed far too dainty for a living being, and what had to be the largest bed in all of Thedas. It was also, in all likelihood, the softest.

He sighed, considering how lonely it was going to be to sleep in his bed. It had been clearly designed after the sort of masquerade masks one wore in Orlais before going over to a wooden bench near the fire. It was also carved with strange faces of forest creatures but these seemed a bit more menacing than the ones on the desk.

Ah well. He had inherited most of this nonsense from Howe and his absent family. It made a certain amount of sense that such a bad man would have such horrible taste in furniture.

As Leif was stripping down to his small clothes, there was a knock on the door. He pulled on one of the least decorative silk dressing gowns available to him and answered the door without bothering to fasten the ties around his waist.

Anders raised an eyebrow and studied him.

Leif waited and then waited some more. “Is… there something you needed?” he eventually asked.

The other man chuckled. “After the night I’ve had, I thought to myself: Anders, what you need is a warm bath, a kitten, and a cuddle. Now I think I’d take you, that large bed, and several nights of uninterrupted bliss. If you wouldn’t mind, of course.”

Leif fought against the impulse to blush and chuckled instead. “Why don’t you come in?”

“Why don’t I just?” Anders agreed with a tired grin. “Please don’t close your robe on my account. I quite like seeing just how kind the last year or so has been to you.”

“I know it may seem like I was some sort of misshapen thing in need of sunshine and muscle tone,” Leif wryly replied, “but honestly I had most of this at Kinloch Hold.” The only thing he hadn’t had in the Circle was a wide selection of robes. Now that he was left to his own devices, he preferred his red robes of the Magister Lords. Or really any of the ornate Tevinter robes to the drab sack-like Ferelden options.

Anders followed him back into the room, taking in the sights before sitting on a large chair next to the bench and the fireplace. “Sweet Andraste, I wish they’d given you better clothes and a haircut then. Or that you’d been a bit more forthcoming, sweetheart. We could have had such a good time.”

Leif shook his head, adding more kindling to the fire before leaning against the warm stone wall beside the mantel.

“You had your moments though,” Anders mused. “Granted we never had a real conversation, but you did me a kindness back then. And another one today. It seems I’m in your debt.”

“No one should owe another person for their life or liberty.”

“Oh don’t be so tedious,” Anders suggested. “There are benefits to being owed a debt and I have no qualms with doing you some sort of service in return. I would have gotten much worse than a year of solitary confinement if you’d told them I’d stolen your staff.”

“You didn’t steal it.”

“Well, I doubt Knight-Commander Gregoir would have been any more thrilled to learn I’d wrestled you to the ground and forced your staff out of your hands.”

Leif shrugged. He wasn’t very eager to visit that particular afternoon. He’d been a bit careless then but it had been his first day outside of the Circle Tower. He had worked hard to earn the ability to accompany several elder Enchanters on what was meant to be a dull errand gathering herbs on the shore of Lake Calenhad. Instead he’d been ambushed by a mage several years his senior who had just finished swimming through the moat and who was in desperate need of a staff. 

He wouldn’t have been sorry to part with the old thing… only it had belonged to his mother and as he had no memories of the woman, he’d wanted to keep the staff close to him at all times. He tried explaining as much or trying to convince the other mage that he didn’t really need a staff even if he was on the run, but when he tried to speak, Anders had assumed he was going to alert the Templars. Anders had tightened his grip on Leif’s shoulders and issued several threats that, minutes later, seemed highly unlikely but at the time seemed very probable and frightening.  

After Anders had snatched the staff out of his trembling hands they’d stared at one another. Anders’ expression softened minutely before hardening again as he told Leif to keep quiet. Then he ran off.

For his part, Leif had lay there in the mud, stunned by the loss of his staff and so conflicted by the wide range of his feelings. An angry part of him wanted to tell someone right away, but a more compassionate part of himself couldn’t imagine doing so. Not to a mage who wasn’t a maleficar and not over a piece of wood. And not to Anders. He still had too many romantic and clearly foolish notions about Anders to do anything but wish he’d been more willful or useful.

After a time, he got up. He’d made excuses for his mud-splattered appearance, handing the herbs to the eldest Enchanter before returning to the dormitories. When Jowan asked about the trip, Leif had mumbled something about preferring the library to trees.

He was able to requisition another staff from Owain easily enough, but several days later, Anders had been dragged back to Kinloch Hold and Irving had easily identified the staff in the runaway mage’s possession.

The experience of being called in the Knight-Commander’s office was fairly traumatizing. He spent most of the meeting staring down at his hands or over at Anders. But in the end, he managed to stammer out that he’d given the staff to Anders quite willingly.

Neither the First Enchanter nor the Knight-Commander seemed convinced, but Anders’ punishment had been lessened because the mage hadn’t harmed any Templars in the course of his jailbreak and Leif’s affections for Anders were hardly as private a matter as the apprentice might have wished. Leif had lost what few privileges he had for several months and the staff was returned to him in pieces. Not owing to any malice in regards to Leif’s poor judgment but because one of the new Templars had broken it on their way back.

Poor Cullen. He probably didn’t feel so guilty about it now considering what had happened to the Circle, but back then the poor man had been wracked with an adorable sort of shame. 

“You still spent a year alone.”

“That wasn’t your doing,” Anders cheerfully pointed out. “I think if my punishment had been up to you, I’d have gotten off with a stern warning, a chaste kiss, and a week of mandatory hand-holding. And I still regret never giving you a proper tumble.”

“Maker’s Breath,” Leif grumbled sitting down on the small ornate couch that was next to Anders’ chair. “You do think highly of yourself, don’t you? I’m beginning to think that my younger self was wiser and far more discerning than I ever gave him credit for.”

 Anders grinned. Then he leaned forward and kissed Leif’s cheek. “You liked it then and you like it now.”

“I still might have to refuse to have much to do with you simply out of principle.”

“Protest if you like,” Anders generously offered. He leaned back in his chair, letting his fingers comb lightly through Leif’s hair. “And preserve your virtue if you must. I’ll let you off the hook. For now. Just distract me. Please.”

“Distract you?”

“Yes. After that little lecture you gave me about what being a Grey Warden actually entails, I’m trying to avoid sleeping for as long as possible.”

“I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to leave anything out.”

“I appreciate it. I suppose I have you to blame, but I owe you a great deal more than complaints. I’m still alive. I’m still me, and I’ve learned that sometimes that’s enough.”

“I think it’s more than enough,” Leif quietly admitted. “I’m so glad you lived.”

“My thanks. As for secret rituals… Well, they last for a reason.”

“Even if the reason is no sane person would agree if they knew?”

“Even so.” Anders shrugged. “I’m not sure I’m entirely thrilled with this arrangement. I’m grateful to you and I should think that would go without saying. But I would never agree to belong to anything if the choice were mine to make.”

“I understand.”

Anders eyed him thoughtfully before studying the fire. “You do, but you don’t. You’re a bit more selfless than I am.”

“I suppose so.”

“Come here,” Anders suggested. “This chair can certainly support the two of us.”

Leif hesitated before moving over to Anders, laughing when it became clear that while the chair could support them, it wasn’t exactly roomy enough for both of them. This meant he ended up in Anders’ lap with the other mage’s arms around him.

“That’s better. Much better,” Anders murmured, nuzzling at Leif’s neck. “I know you gave Oghren the same lecture as you gave me. I doubt he’ll remember any of it, all things considered, but you explained the unpleasant details so… Who did that for you?”

Leif blinked a few seconds later when it occurred to him that Anders was expecting an answer. It seemed sort of unfair to have to talk when he was comfortable and warm. It had been ages since anyone had held him and he’d always wanted Anders to. Even if it was only because of the Joining, it was enough. “What did you say?”

Anders chuckled. “Who filled you in after the Joining was done?”

Leif sighed. He knew how the story sounded in summary. Bookish Circle Orphan Mage becomes Determined Grey Warden and saves the day while plagued with nightmares and doubts. He didn’t want to look back and he didn’t want pity or sympathy. Not from Anders. Not even if that was the best he could hope for.

“I don’t… Can we not… That is…”

“Hm?”

“I don’t think I need to bore you with this. It hardly matters, does it?”

“I can ask another question, Commander—”

“Just Leif. Please.”

“I can ask another question, Leif, but one way or another, I am learning more about you. Is that such a bad thing?”

“No?” Leif asked, not liking how skittish he sounded but having no idea what to do about it. He hadn’t been asked to share very much by anyone outside of the small circle of friends he had. “All right. Who explained it all in some of succinct and helpful fashion? Well. No one, really.”

“No one,” Anders repeated.

“After the ritual, the darkspawn attacked and there wasn’t time for answers to questions I’d have in the near future. After they attacked… You’ve seen them. They don’t leave much behind. King Cailan died and Duncan with him. Alistair and I fared better but we were the lone survivors.”

“You really did stop the Blight on your own then.”

“Not on my own. I had help. I just made everyone stop their stupid bickering and do something for a change.”

“Glad I am to see you’ve giving yourself some of the credit,” Anders said in a way that made Leif ache briefly for Morrigan.

He tried never to think of Morrigan and although he didn’t regret refusing to follow her to parts unknown… Maker but he missed her. She’d have beaten this morose behavior right out of him with her bare hands.

“So things happened,” Anders prompted, rearranging both of their positions so that while Leif remained in his lap, Leif’s legs were on the arm of the chair. Leif had to put his arms around Anders’ neck and face him rather than look away. “Eventually someone thought they could maybe tell you what was going on?”

“Basically. I woke up the first night in camp thrashing about and Alistair explained the dreams I’d been having. The hunger didn’t seem that odd to me but then Alistair is the worst cook in all of Thedas and my other companions wasn’t much better. Or couldn’t be completely trusted with the food.”

Anders raised an eyebrow.

“An Antivan Crow joined us shortly after trying to kill me.”

“And you let him help you?” Anders laughed. “Never mind. What am I even asking for? Of course you did.”

“It worked out.”

“I have a hard time imagining anyone being cold-hearted enough to butcher someone so sweetly stupid and trusting. Maybe you do need a minder, after all.”

Leif blushed and shrugged. “Be that as it may, I found out about the way it ends accidentally. Alistair thought I knew. That someone had told me but… Well, there had to be a catch, didn’t there?”

Anders frowned. “When did Alistair become a Grey Warden?”

“Some months before me.”

“So why was he so slow at revealing details?”

“At first I thought maybe he didn’t know and then I realized it was more than that. He didn’t want to be the one to tell me all the bad things that were going to happen to me. So I tried to keep from prolonging the conversation.”

“Why?”

“Because he was… Because he is my friend. Everything he said upset me and upset him in turn and we had so much work to do.”

“But he’s not Ferelden’s Hero. Why did it fall to you then? Why were you in charge?”

“He’d grown up being told what to do, what to say, and who to be. I think that made him wary of assuming command of anything. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to make up his own mind if backed into a corner. So there wasn’t much of a choice for me. I can’t say I wanted to be in charge or that I felt very comfortable, but we managed.”

Anders’ frown remained. If anything it seemed to grow deeper before he shook his head. “And the Archdemon?”

“Initially a Senior Warden named Riordan was to take that responsibility on. He died and I chose to fight on in his stead.”

“No, no. I mean how did you kill it?”

Leif stiffened a bit before sighing. He couldn’t even recall how many times he wished he could have told Zevran, Leliana, or any of the others about the Archdemon. Anders was a Grey Warden, which meant he could tell him.

Maybe it was too early. Maybe it should have waited until he was sure of what sort of Grey Warden Anders would prove to be, but he couldn’t stand to have too many suspicions about a person. It reminded him too much of the Circle, of being a young man filled to the brim with fear. Of Jowan. Zevran’s charming accent and cavalier attitude had helped, but it was remembering that helpless, irrational, paranoid fear that stayed his hand.

Leif slipped his arms away from Anders but didn’t object to the mage wrapping an arm around him. “What I say next cannot leave this room, Anders.”

“It won’t.”

“Blights end and begin with the Archdemon, but any darkspawn can become the Archdemon. They operate through a hive mind and the most powerful controls everyone else through their blood, which is one reason why we drink it. The other reason is so that when one of kills the Archdemon, it stays dead.”

This explanation was met with a silence that was only broken by the crackling of the fire. Leif eyed Anders for a while before looking down at his own hands. He still didn’t regret accepting Morrigan’s offer, but he wasn’t looking forward to having to explain what he’d done in order to ensure his own survival.

“You were supposed to die the whole time,” Anders stated.

“Not me exactly. A Grey Warden and an older one at that, but they’d all died.”

“The end result is still pretty horrific. No one was there to tell you anything, no one was there to give you anything, and when you finally found someone with answers, you were sent off to die.”

“Because of a Blight,” Leif argued.

“My mistake. You were sent to die heroically,” Anders clarified. He paused, shaking his head. “How old are you?”

“I’ll be twenty three in a month. Should I tell you how I survived?” Leif asked, sounding more nervous than he had hoped to.

Waiting was excruciating but eventually Anders sighed. “I suppose I ought to, but I can’t even bring myself to care. Not when I think about… Maker, it’s all rather unfair, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“Your life so far.”

Leif snorted. “As if yours has been so much better?”

“Of course not, but I protested it. I still protest it. I run, I fight, and I feel nothing but glee when Templars die. You just accepted that the hand you were dealt was going to be monstrously unfair from start to finish.”

 “In the end, I said no,” Leif pointed out. “Even when it meant doing something that I’m still not proud of. And they promoted me for it. I’m a Commander of the Grey but I couldn’t even sacrifice myself—”

“By the end it was about damn time for you to say no to something,” Anders insisted. As he spoke, Anders smiled warmly and Leif longed to touch his cheek. But he didn’t. “Enough mages are martyrs as it is. What you did… That’s more than most people would ever do with a hundred lifetimes at their disposal. People—ordinary people, mind you, not that Rylock woman— don’t just think you’re a mage. They think you’re a hero. They have no idea what it took, but they know that they owe you everything.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Look at me like that. Like I did something noble or brave. Anyone would have done what I did and probably better than—”

“What are you going on about?” Anders asked, looking concerned. He reached out with his free hand and touched Leif’s cheek, running warm fingers over his skin. “I honestly hope you don’t think everything I did was a result of some romantic desire to be a folk hero. I liked picking fights. I liked ending them. I don’t think that’s always a very brave thing to do. Hardly clever.”

“I never did anything.”

Anders cursed under his breath. “You’re harboring a Chantry’s worth of guilt, aren’t you? Why?”

“I just sort of accepted whatever happened at the Circle. I never changed anything there or even spoke up and when I left? It was because I turned on a friend. I turned Jowan in.”

“How exactly did you turn him in? Everyone heard about his escape. Smashed his phylactery. Loved some girl he shouldn’t have. Was a blood mage. The end.”

“I was with him. He told me what he planned and I told the First Enchanter.”

“And therefore everything he did or happened to him is…your fault?” Anders rolled his eyes. “If you went around thinking mages always have the ability to take the moral high road, you were bloody delusional.”

“I could have helped him.”

“Did you want to help him?”

Leif sighed and shook his head. He wanted to lie, but he also wanted to be honest because it wouldn’t have been right to lie to someone that he wanted to get closer to. Not that they could get much closer at the moment, but there were other moments in the future that deserved consideration.

“I didn’t want him to get in trouble but I couldn’t imagine that the enterprise would be successful. Yes, his phylactery was there, but mine wasn’t. Jowan didn’t seem particularly concerned that I would be the one remaining behind when the First Enchanter found out what he’d done. He wouldn’t listen and neither would Lily. I had just become a mage that morning. Even if they couldn’t make me Tranquil and even if I'd wanted to leave…”

“You were scared. They use that, you know,” Anders said soothingly. “And with the Harrowing only hours behind you, I doubt you were thinking clearly.”

“It’s no excuse.”

“No. You can say that what you did was at Jowan’s expense, but was it, really? You’re not wrong in thinking Jowan was trying to use you but you’re also not seeing the big picture.”

“Which is?”

“Irving and Gregoir knew what he was up to.”

“Irving knew more than Gregoir. I was the one who told Irving the details of what Jowan was planning.”

“And?”

“And he asked me to follow Jowan. So both Lily and Jowan would get found out.”

“So they watched and waited?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you ought to feel foolish for being such a willing pawn,” Anders mused. “But you seem to really overestimate the role you played in all of this. Did you introduce Jowan to the demon that taught him blood magic?”

“No.”

“Do you really think he would have given up on the plan if you had kept out of it altogether?”

“No.”

“Then who is to blame for what happened to Jowan?”

“Me.”

“The Circle,” Anders argued. “The whole damn system, Leif. What happened to that poor bugger, happened in large part because Jowan was running out of time and options. He wasn’t the sort of apprentice they wanted him to be and so he turned to blood magic. They wanted to make him Tranquil so he concocted a scheme with more holes in it than an expensive Orlesian cheese.”

“I was his friend, “Leif insisted. “I didn’t even notice what was happening to him and—”

“Listen,” Anders said, tugging Leif closer. “Just stop yourself and listen. All right?”

Leif nodded, uncertain of what do with himself as he waited for Anders to continue. He was even less sure when Anders began stroking his hair as if he was some large sort of cat. He eventually leaned in, resting his forehead on Anders’ shoulder.

“Through random chance, you were dropped off at Kinloch Hold like some sort of unwanted parcel so you didn’t have any of those experiences that so many of us do before we get there. No one had to drag you kicking and crying away from your mother. No one had to beat your brother to a bloody pulp to get him to stop defending you. No one clasped your sister and father in irons for refusing to hand you over. And those are only a few of the possibilities, darling.”

Anders’ fingers brushed over Leif’s face, caressing the shell of one ear before moving back to his hair. “You were raised by Templars and Mages and when things went wrong you learned to blame yourself or those around you. The Circle was never at fault, the Circle was never to blame. And in time you came to trust the Circle and its leaders above all else. That was no accident. That’s precisely what they want.

They want for you to never ever forgive yourself if you keep a secret or tell them something they already know. They want you to blame yourself and Jowan because it’s so much simpler for everyone if you hate yourself. Or some boy who wanted to be special so badly that he made a pact with a demon.”

“I failed him.”

“The Circle failed him. The Circle failed you and me and him. And then the Circle turned to blood magic and you saved what little could be saved. Have you conveniently forgotten all about that?”

“No,” Leif said quietly. He tried to move away but Anders wouldn’t let him. He exhaled sharply before settling against Anders, wishing he could stay like this and wishing he didn’t have to at the same time. Either way, he wasn’t about to forget the Sloth Demons or Niall or Uldred. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Is that your fault too?”

“No.”

“Then stop. Without that horrible event, you wouldn’t be here and neither would most of this country.”

“Alistair could have—”

“I highly doubt it,” Anders said. “Anyway you’ve proved yourself. You’ve done more than that, in fact. You’re the bloody Hero of Ferelden, aren’t you? Commander of the Grey, Arl of Amaranthine… And Collector of Really Pointless Titles. You’ll be Princess of Some Bog next, I suspect. Now. I’m going to let you go and if you’re not looking reasonably less depressed, I’m going to smother you with affection again.”

Leif smiled sheepishly once he was freed. “I think I was supposed to distract you or comfort you or something.”

“This works for me,” Anders said, smiling back. “Life’s too short to sit around brooding over past mistakes. Yours is even shorter. Mine too, come to that. Since we’ll be working together for the foreseeable future, I don’t see why we ought to waste them on figuring out who is to blame for the bad things that happen to people.”

Leif breathed out a sigh. “There is some truth to that.”

“And there are so many better things to do with your time and energy. If you’re out of ideas, I can show you about fifty new ones.”

“Promise?”

Anders smirked before kissing Leif’s cheek. “You’re going to regret it, but I’ll show you new and better ways to occupy your time. I’ll gladly occupy your thoughts too. Or anything else you’d like. And that’s a promise.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a long one this time, but there really wasn't a good stopping point. The next chapter will be up a little later in the week!


	4. Chapter Four

Leif woke up covered in furs and Anders. He was unsure as to what his dreams had been like and quickly rolled over to see if the other mage had been equally as fortunate.

Anders seemed a little raw around the edges, but he still managed a smirk. “This is nice. The bed and you. I could still use a kitten though.”

“Maybe I can find you one.”

“You sweet thing,” Anders purred before yawning. “What’s on the agenda for today then? Finding some creepy corners and startling darkspawn out of them?”

“Doubtful,” Leif said.

“What a shame.”

Leif smiled. “I suppose the City of Amaranthine is the place to start. We’ve a missing Warden to find and some frightened hunters to speak to. After I see what else needs doing around here, of course.”

“Take me with? Not this minute. I don’t mind putting your bed to good use if you won’t but odds are you’ll need a healer even if you only go to the city proper.”

“All right.” Leif paused, leaning over to kiss Anders’ cheek. “There might be times when I won’t need you to come with and then you’re welcome to go to nearby places on your own. You just have to come back.”

Anders considered this with a shake of his head. “Have to,” he repeated. “I’m not sure I ever do what I have to. I’m a great shirker of responsibility and obligation.”

Propping himself up on one elbow, Anders gave Leif a look that was hard to interpret. There was a friendly enough warmth in the other mage’s eyes, but there was a hint of curiosity, mischief, and maybe even suspicion. As if what Leif did next would determine a great deal more than how the rest of the day would progress.

He knew he ought to offer up a stern reminder that Grey Wardens didn’t leave or shirk. However, offering up a more personal and comforting statement could lead to more intimacy between them. That would have been a good enough reason in of itself, but Leif wasn’t sure he could stand being a Commander of the Grey if it meant he couldn’t be himself. And it was by being honest, genuine, and perhaps a tad too helpful to strangers that had allowed Leif to unite Ferelden. He hadn’t needed to resort to lectures then and he didn’t need to now.

“Don’t take my being a Warden too literally,” Leif suggested. “And I don’t think it’s that you’re shirking anything. You’re looking for ways to actually be of use. So go where you like when the mood strikes you. Only tell me. And if you find you need a reason to return… Well, I’d like you to come back.”

Anders considered this stoically before smiling again. “Decent enough advice, but I think I’ll stick close to the Keep. Or to you at any rate. It’s probably wiser, all things considered.”

There was more they might have discussed, but Leif felt too relieved to do much besides accept a good morning kiss and leave Anders to sleep.

Downstairs, Leif broke his fast before reluctantly following Varel into the main hall to take various Arl-related oaths and greet the upper crust of Amaranthine society. After which he was given what amounted to a lengthy errand list. There were important tasks such as dealing with the darkspawn taking up residence under Vigil’s Keep and restoring trade in addition to the missing Warden Kristoff. Added to the list of vague but potentially useful tasks, he needed to locate supplies for Dwarven grenades and dealing with some prisoner who had turned up right before Leif had arrived.

“Just like old times,” Alistair said, looking more and more amused as Leif listened to more and more problems. “And soon you’ll have just as many strays.”

“Oghren’s hardly a stray.”

“I’m sure that apostate will make up for him.”

“His name is Anders,” Leif corrected. “And he’s a Grey Warden. Mind your manners.”

“All right, but I’ll wager you five sovereigns that you do something nice for the prisoner you’ve got.”

Varel snorted in quiet amusement and so did the Guard Captain. Mistress Woolsey was providing Leif with some sort of thin-lipped death glare that suggested he not squander a single bit of gold on pointless frivolities. Or maybe she just knew it was a bet Leif was predestined to lose just like everyone else seemed to.

“Normally I would consider it but I have a Keep to fortify and a murder conspiracy to deal with so I need all the coin I have.”

“Right,” Alistair drawled. “That’s why. How silly of me, Commander.”

Regardless of Leif’s insistence that he could in fact explore his own Keep without assistance, Alistair had refused to allow Leif to “traipse about the place on his own” and both of them had gone down to the dungeons. Anders had finally rolled out of bed and joined the rest of his motley crew seemed eager to find inappropriate literature in the Keep’s small library.

“Leliana is all poised to write a ballad about you and Anders,” Alistair said once they were outside. “She feels that your use of the Right was very romantic.”

“Just what the Order needs,” Leif wryly muttered, “love songs about conscriptions.”

“You might have told me you liked someone back home. I’d have given Zevran a good talking to.”

“I doubt that would have stopped him.”

“All the same… Well, obviously what you do with him is your own business,” Alistair began.

“I sense a but coming.”

“But please tell me he isn’t here because you have a thing for him and because that Rylock woman was such a shrew.”

“Do you think I’m so irresponsible? That I would completely abuse my position to—”

Alistair held up a hand. “Whoa there. Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t worry about you so much as I worry about Anders manipulating you.”

Leif sighed. “You think he is or just that it’s inevitable that he will? Because we’ve had this conversation before if you’ll recall.”

“I was wrong about Zevran,” Alistair admitted. “As for Anders, I’d like to hope he’s not as foolish as all that. Not when I can Smite him right into the Void itself if he so much as hurts even one of your feelings. It’s only… You’ve done so much and you’ve never shown any interest in anyone and…” His friend looked a bit sheepish but also oddly sad. “You must get lonely sometimes. Being a hero and all.”

“I get tired,” Leif admitted.

“Exactly,” Alistair soothed before sighing heavily. “You know I think the world of you, but you tend to think the very best of people. I’ve seen that trust get you hurt. I’ve watched it nearly get you killed and… Well, it makes me feel like someone ought to be cautious. Maker knows I’m not very good at it. Only I think this Anders is a bit of a bad bet in terms of well-deserved affection.”

“I… I suppose I can appreciate your efforts,” Leif said. All the same, he felt torn between confusion as to whether Alistair’s concern grated on his nerves or greatly pleased him. “Seeing as you’re not entirely wrong.”

Alistair nodded. “It doesn’t help that you’re a very young Commander under close scrutiny right now. Don’t forget that we’re Wardens first. Anders has to be one too.”

 _Will I ever find someone who is a good bet?_ Leif wondered as he nodded. _Am I really supposed to wait until then to decide to do something entirely selfish?_

Maker’s Breath, but he missed Zevran. As much as he dearly loved Alistair, he did wish his friend hadn’t made it a sort of personal mission to find fault with people who weren’t so bloody eager to die for a cause. Or that Alistair had developed a less dreamy, romantic take on the inherent goodness of honor, sacrifice, and duty.

It was an easy one to maintain. Alistair had been at the very end of the queue for Archdemon-slaying, and he’d never had to be particularly responsible in the same way Leif had to be. Then again Leif was certain part of that was his own fault for always trying to spare Alistair from so many things while accepting that he himself would never get to ignore a single one of them. And it was decidedly Leif’s own fault that he’d always been such a big damn selfless hero everywhere they went. Now that they were done fighting the Blight, it wasn’t surprising that even Alistair expected he’d go on being the same way forever.

Maybe that was why even after all he’d been through and seen since leaving the Circle, Leif still admired Anders so very much. Being defiant for everyone’s sake was all well and good but being defiant for one’s own sense of self when the better part of Thedas felt you didn’t really deserve anything at all took a great deal of courage too.

Thankfully, leaving Alistair to wait outside of the cells and the prisoner’s angry glower forced all of these thoughts back into hiding.

“And you would be?” Leif asked once the man was done being utterly unimpressed by Leif’s height and posture.

“Nathaniel Howe.”

“Really.”

“Really.”

“At the risk of asking a very obvious question… You’re here because?”

“Because this is my home, damn you,” Nathaniel said in a low, snarling tone. “Home to my mother and my sister and my brother. It doesn’t belong to you or the Wardens. Because I had thought to kill you.”

Another day, another series of death threats it seemed. “Be that as it may, you’re hardly the stuff of legends yourself. And if you’re hoping that thinking hard enough in my direction will reduce me to ashes? It won’t.”

The man didn’t really resemble the Renden Howe that Leif had briefly encountered back in Denerim, but the connection explained a good many things. After some choice barbs and several observations about Arl Howe’s bad end being the man’s own fault, Leif had insisted Varel be brought down to the dungeons and that a very ungrateful Nathaniel be set free.

“I’ll come right back again,” Howe had insisted. “I’ll return here for what’s mine.”

“Of course you will,” Alistair murmured, rolling his eyes as Nathaniel and several guards marched past him. “Why did you let him go?”

“If I killed every fool who disliked me, I’d never have time to get anything else done.”

-

The first day in Amaranthine consisted of a brief reunion with Wynne, who was not at all pleased to see Anders. She was even less pleased when Leif didn’t jump up and down with joy at being given one more person to track down. And while Leif was civil, he’d never quite gotten used to feeling like a clumsy ten year old in her presence. Or Wynne’s tendency to wax poetic about the importance of being miserable for the sake of the greater good.

Eventually they found the inn where Kristoff had been staying and through bartender, barmaids, and a map, they learned of his whereabouts. Much to the relief of Alistair and Anders, it was too late in the afternoon to stomp through a swamp with a somewhat sinister name and an even darker reputation.

 “So,” Alistair began as they headed back to the Keep, “why did you go back to a staff? I thought you were doing all right with the sword.”

Leif snorted. “Not compared to you.”

“Even so.”

“For one thing, we work better as a team if you’re on weapons and I’m on magic. For another, I’m supposed to be wandering about the countryside impressing people with my might and skill. I figured I’d use the weapon I’m more comfortable with. And one that doesn’t leave me so winded after every single skirmish.”

“You do just fine,” Alistair said in the defensive tone. “Better than most people.”

“Alistair—”

“I’m not done. You’re in charge and you even outrank me now and I know you don’t want to hear it, but I don’t care. I’m telling you that this won’t do at all. It’s no good to constantly find faults in your own performance. If people aren’t impressed by you, then who even cares anymore? You’re past the need for their approval.”

“It’s not that,” Leif protested, gently patting Alistair’s arm. “I can be good with a sword but I’m great with my…” He trailed off, throwing a glance over his shoulder at Ogrhen and Anders who were a few paces behind. They were back to needling one another with one insult after another. He hoped this would lead to some sort of friendship or truce in the end. Dwarves seemed to need a healthy amount of conflict to be happy.

Oghren had been in a foul mood ever since he’d been denied the chance to wet his whistle at the Crown and the Lion. Anders had been gritting his teeth ever since they’d set foot in the Chantry and obviously he hadn’t appreciated receiving a lecture from Wynne on setting a better example for mages everywhere. Anders had told her precisely where to shove her advice, but he’d been a bit sullen afterwards.

No doubt both of them were a bit disappointed by their first day as Grey Wardens. Doubtless they’d expected something a bit more glamorous than tracking down the corpse of a man who couldn’t live with the shame of failing his pretty wife, inheriting a problem from two traumatized hunters, and learning that Kristoff was off in a swamp somewhere.

Currently neither mage nor dwarf seemed to be paying attention to their senior-ranking officers, but Leif knew better than to trust appearances. “Never mind. I’m sticking with this staff and that’s all there is to it.”

Alistair raised an eyebrow, thought things over, and then chuckled.  “Suit yourself, but I refuse to let you give up entirely on using a sword. We could spar when we return to the Keep. It couldn’t hurt to have options, after all, and maybe I could give you a few pointers.”

“You can... Only I’m not sure how much of a difference it will make. Using mana for sword-wielding is very taxing.”

“Practice makes perfect.”

“I suppose. I wish I could have a proper teacher. If I had someone to teach me… But I can’t imagine who would be able to.”

“It’s a shame,” Alistair agreed. “Even if the Dalish knew anything about it, I can’t imagine they’d be eager to share ancient secrets with you. And most of them liked you in the end.”

Leif smiled. “They didn’t mind you as much as they could have.”

“Hardly matters. I minded all of those stories we were made to endure.”

“Fair enough.” It had been a bit awkward, after all. Leif had wanted to learn a bit about his mother’s people, but he hadn’t really enjoyed watching elders force children to recite old myths in order to make a point about the evil ways of the shems. And after that he’d completely given up on the idea of so much as mentioning his mixed heritage. Which was just as well given his refusal to side with Dalish against the werewolves of Brecilian Forest.

Alistair considered Leif’s staff and sighed. “A sword would still be of greater value to you in close-range combat. Or even a dagger. I wonder how it was that someone decided it was perfectly fine for mages to have pointy sticks but it wasn’t all right for them to have blades of any kind.”

“The Chantry,” Anders offered, joining them. He seemed a bit put out by their dwarven companion, but that was the sort of reaction Ogrhen enjoyed getting from people. “I’m sure the reason has something to do with the outdated notion that keeping us from cutlery would keep us from being able to defend ourselves. And to keep the blood magic to a minimum.”

Alistair shook his head, and it wasn’t hard to guess what he was thinking about. They’d encountered plenty of blood mages before they’d liberated Kinloch Hold. Very few of them were was helpful as Jowan had proved to be even if their reunion had left much to be desired.

“Beyond the Circles,” Anders continued, “apostates have staffs with axe heads or spears. Even here in Ferelden. One of the mages I met in the Kokari Wilds used an enchanted mace.”

“Really?” Leif asked.

Anders smiled. “Really. You should have seen her bashing in this one Tem—” He eyed Alistair and shook his head. “Never mind. Orlais likes its mages even less than Ferelden does so I’m sure they only hand out pointy sticks. But I’ve heard that in Kirkwall, Starkhaven, and some parts of Antiva, mages are encouraged to use more practical staves. And in Tevinter, a mage can do what he or she likes.”

“Stupid rules. Stupid humans,” Oghren muttered. He was just as philosophical as always.

“Right. Because your people are so very forward-thinking,” Anders wryly replied. “They’re never bogged down by narrow-minded assumptions or archaic traditions chock full of pointless discriminations.”

“Not my problem anymore. And if Sparkle-fingers isn’t going to ask, I will,” Ogrhen said, pausing smirk. “What’s this about you and a sword and poor performance, kid?”

“None of your business.”

“Why? If Alistair can’t help you, I’m willing to bet that I could teach you a bit about endurance and stamina. I got plenty of both. Heh.”

Anders made a face. “Right. I’m certain that our Commander would prefer that you kept as far away from his sword and his staff as possible. But maybe he’d let me provide some assistance. It’s the least I can do particularly if the poor thing’s exhausted and in terrible need of relief.”

 “You two are very bad men,” Alistair said, but even he sounded amused.

Leif rolled his eyes then tried to put as much distance between himself and his traveling companions as possible.

“Oh come on, kid. It’s hilarious,” Oghren called after him.

“You needn’t be so shy about it,” Anders agreed. “It’s a common enough problem.”

All in all it was a bit of a relief when Nathaniel Howe materialized out of nowhere.

“Don’t,” Leif insisted. “Please, for Maker’s sake, think about what you want to say to me for half a moment more. Then try to state it in a way that these bastards behind me can’t misinterpret.”

Howe stared at him for a second in disbelief and confusion. Leif didn’t know the man well enough but he almost suspected that he was trying to suppress some small trace of amusement.

“In that case, it’s been such a long day, you can’t even imagine, and I realize you probably don’t care, but I’m currently at your mercy so be kind.” A thought occurred to Leif and he frowned. “Unless you’re here to kill me. In which case I highly think you ought to make up your mind, man. Waffling back and forth is no way to get a job done—”

“Commander, I think if you would allow me to say something, I could perhaps shed some light on my reason for being here. It would certainly save you some time.”

“Very well.”

“I want you to reconsider and allow me to join the Grey Wardens. I know that Vigil’s Keep is yours. That there is nothing there that I may reclaim, but if I cannot leave with something, let me stay. I need this.”

“Careful. He might go all Zevran on ya.”

Alistair groaned. “Maker’s Breath, I hope not. We’ve had enough of that for one lifetime.”

“Who or what is Zevran?” Anders asked.

Leif sighed, ignoring his companions and considering Nathaniel. “There aren’t a lot of perks to being a Grey Warden. Some of the drawbacks are standing right behind me.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Leif crossed his arms. “Then I hope you’ve given the matter more thought that you did your botched assassination attempt. What you’re agreeing to isn’t some sort of soothing balm for the way you feel or what your father has done.”

Nathaniel clenched his fists briefly, and presumably until the desire to leap to the dead Arl’s defense had passed. “I am not seeking solace. I am seeking my own path.”

“Which is a noble goal,” Leif said as gently and as earnestly as he was able.

He didn’t forgive Rendon Howe for being a horrible opportunistic bastard during Ferelden’s darkest hours. He certainly didn’t feel sorry for killing the man, not even a little, but he had never been the sort to go around assuming the worst of people. He wasn’t sure he could stand to start doing so now.

Howe gave Leif a strange, flinty look that was hard to interpret. It ought to have indicated displeasure, all things considered, but it seemed to indicate something else as well.

Leif exhaled quietly. “You must also understand that there is nothing else I can tell you until you’ve joined. Save for our oath. In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice.”

“I understand.”

“All right. I can’t very well turn away someone willing to join, and I think our Order will benefit greatly from your service. I’ll see that your belongings are restored to you once we return to the Keep. The Joining can take place shortly thereafter.”

“Thank you, Commander Amell. Sincerely.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Leif gruffly replied before moving away.

-

Anders caught up with Leif as Howe remained some short ways behind them. He was fielding questions from a very suspicious Alistair and Oghren. Alistair's badgering made sense since the man was convinced it was his job to protect Leif from everything, but sometimes Leif forgot that the dwarf took their friendship just as seriously.

“Andraste’s knicker-weasels. This Grey Wardening business is very dull and serious so far. When do you ever just take time to do something fun?” Anders asked.

“Such as?”

“Taking in the sights. Enjoying the view. You’re so busy trudging to and fro that I don’t think you’re even aware of how lovely the sunset is. Even when it’s happening right in front of you.”

“I…”

“I don’t mean it so much as a criticism as a concern. What’s the point of all this do-gooding on the behalf of lazy peasants if you never get to breath in good fresh air and think: What a lovely day it is.”

Leif smiled. “Maybe after the conspiracy’s dealt with. And the darkspawn.”

“And if there’s another crisis?”

“I suppose I’ll have to be useful.”

Anders sighed.

“Is that such a bad thing?”

 “For you? Yes. I think it’s a horrible thing. The worst, in fact.”

“How can you know that?”

“I’m a healer and you, my darling Commander, are very, very stressed. You’re too young to be so burdened. And too handsome.”

Leif laughed. “I like being of service.”

“Then be of service to me,” Anders said with a wink. “Or to yourself. Don’t give everything you are to everything else. It’s just such a waste of… well, you.”

Leif smiled, amused but also touched by Anders’ concern. “I do take moments or I thought I did. I suppose I’ve sort of forgotten how to make time for them on a daily basis. And you’re right. I didn’t even notice the lovely sunset.”

“Which is depressing.”

“It is,” Leif admitted. He paused, feeling a little shy and then he added: “I would… That is, I want to make moments. Time. For you. If you want.”

Anders blinked a bit before laughing. “Darling, who else would I want you to make time for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took awhile to find a decent break between this chapter and the next so hopefully this makes enough sense on its own.


	5. Chapter Five

Nathaniel’s Joining was relatively uneventful even if Leif couldn’t help noticing he was the only one present for the ceremony who seemed relieved that Howe had passed with flying colors.

Not eager to hear anyone’s opinion on the matter, Leif had gone outside. In a matter of moments, he’d been given several letters, learned about several troubling developments in terms of darkspawn, resigned himself to spending most of his money on amending the piss-poor condition of the Keep itself, and promising Herren that he would do something about Wade’s boredom.

That done, Leif roamed around his Keep, nodding a hello to an elven groundskeeper, and giving the starry sky overhead a little bit of consideration. Sweet Andraste but if this Amaranthine business was the First Warden’s idea of a reward, he hated to think of what a punishment might have been. Or might be if he couldn’t manage to get everything accomplished.

After creating a small wisp to provide him for light, Leif read over the letter from Zevran and wished briefly that he’d been selfish enough to guilt his friend into staying in Ferelden. Then he read a short missive from Bann Teagan who, in addition to many other things, was Fang’s current caretaker. Leif missed the mutt a great deal but he wasn’t sure the Mabari’s good luck at avoiding the Taint could last forever. And until the darkspawn were eliminated, it only seemed right to leave her at Redcliffe.

He sighed before heading back indoors. He had resolved to give Nathaniel the night to recover and to tell him the rest of the details he needed to know in the morning. Which left him with little to do considering how empty the main hall of the Keep appeared to be.

The bookshelf held little of interest so he decided to return to his room and work on another small project. Back at the Circle, he’d taken up knitting as a hobby. It served him well in the winter and if it meant that other apprentices occasionally demanded scarves or mittens, he hadn’t minded obliging them. Jowan got the lion’s share by virtue of being the most demanding and most beloved of Leif’s small group of friends. Neria had done well for herself though.

Unfortunately his meager supplies had gotten lost somewhere, possibly in Lothering. And he had never thought of looking for additional ones considering there was a Blight going on and he had worried about looking a bit foolish. Leliana was determined to chronicle his exploits, after all, and he hated the idea of her writing a ballad about the Hero of Ferelden’s pile of stressed-induced knits.

Afterwards, while waiting for something to do, he had managed to make Alistair a golem doll and a small griffin, but winter would be coming soon enough. He wanted to make a scarf and, since he wasn’t likely to find yarn in the Keep, he was resolved to make better needles.

He was whittling down one of the two branches he’d gathered on the walk back when there was a knock on the door. And he let Anders in.

“It’s awfully cold,” Anders observed with a good deal of cheer. “I thought we’d bunk together for the sake of warmth and possibly companionship.”

“It’s a good thought.”

“I assumed so.”

-

Although the Blackmarsh was still high on Leif’s list of priorities, there had been a ransom to contend with the following afternoon. Some noble wanted his daughter returned to him and didn’t have the coin to do so himself. Whether this was true or not, Leif felt obligated to aid the girl.

So Alistair, Anders, and Nathaniel had accompanied Leif on that errand. Without spending any coins, Leif had convinced the mercenaries to hand their captive over. Then there had been a brief skirmish before they’d escorted the woman to her home. Then they’d returned home for more menial tasks more suited to an Arl than a Commander. Leif had excused his men, consulted with Varel before handling several disputes, and then listened to Leliana tell Anders and Nathaniel more about their adventures.

Leif slept again with Anders for the sake of… he wasn’t entirely sure what, before waking up to loud pounding upon his door.

Leif rolled out of bed, pushing his blankets towards a still sleeping Anders before throwing on some clothes.

“Tell them to piss off, will you?” Anders muttered.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Leif offered before throwing on some clothes. Opening the door, he was a bit surprised to see Nathaniel on the other side of it.

“I met groundskeeper Samuel. He worked here before… For my family.”

There was an awkward silence that Leif had no idea how to fill. Eventually he said:  “Um. That’s good. I’ve met him myself and he seems quite reliable. Had you anything else to bring up?”

Nathaniel took a deep breath. He looked oddly vulnerable for half a second before managing a more stoic expression. “My sister is alive, and I’ve been struggling to come up with a way to… That is I want to see her. I have so many questions. And concerns. I was hoping we could find time to visit the City in the near future but I know I haven’t exactly proven myself yet.”

“Proven yourself?” Leif repeated.

“I realize it is a great deal to ask and I will do what is necessary. All I ask is that in the future, I be given leave to—”

Leif laughed. “Are you… Nathaniel, that’s ridiculous. You can certainly see your sister anytime you wish. Today in fact.”

Nathaniel had seemed a bit bewildered by this but eventually he nodded. “Thank you, Commander.”

“Now off with you. It’s early and I’ve a good deal more sleep to get,” Leif insisted. He closed the door gently but firmly in the archer’s face then crawled back into bed.

Anders yawned, gathering Leif back into his arms. “Let me guess. Someone’s baby fell down in a well? A dog wandered off into a bog? Or did someone’s cousin’s niece’s nephew get kidnapped?”

Leif chuckled. “Howe wants to see his sister.”

Anders smirked. “How lovely.”

“No more puns,” Leif insisted. He was hoping Anders would eventually run out but there seemed to be no end in sight. “There’s that Smuggler Ring too. And I suspect I ought to visit the Chantry.”

“Weren’t we just there?”

“Look at this way, we can check the Board and make sure there’s no wanted posters up for you.”

“Now that is a good thought,” Anders said. “That pretty little head of yours is chock-full of bright ideas.”

Unfortunately, certain members of his company were nowhere near as receptive to Leif’s ideas as his bedmate. Oghren just wanted to earn more coin for more drinks, Leliana was a bit suspicious, and Alistair seemed irritated. Nathaniel was doing his best impression of a fly on the wall, listening intently to everything but contributing nothing.

“We’re likely to waste an awful lot of time dealing with the talking darkspawn,” Alistair had commented. “Must we waste it on Howe?”

His tone was stiff and uncharitable as it often was when he was being protective. However, Leif suspected his friend wasn’t only worried about Nathaniel’s intentions. Attending someone else’s potentially positive reunion with a sister was more than likely bringing back memories of Goldanna.

“Time reconnecting with loved ones is time well spent,” Anders had put in. “And besides. Wouldn’t you like to meet sister Howe? Give her a lovely how do you do?”

“Must you?” Leliana asked.

“I think so,” Anders said with a grin.

“I have nothing against Howe’s sister but privileges need to be earned.”

“Don’t see why he needs to see his family at all,” Oghren put in. “Family’s nothing but a pain in the nuts anyway.”

“Oh for Andraste’s sake!” Leif interjected, wincing a bit when he realized he was shouting. “Now see here, all of you. This decision, like all the decisions I make, is not up for a vote. You are under my command and you will all treat with one another with some degree of courtesy, is that clear? Alistair? Oghren? Everyone?”

He waited until he got a decent number of nods or grunted before continuing. “Now. If I say someone needs help, you are to leap at the chance to do some good for another person. Then you will ask me how you can help them not list all the reasons why we ought to piss and moan for hours on end. And the next person to use the word ‘privilege’ for any reason is going to spend the afternoon scrubbing latrines. Am I understood?”

Anders’ lips curved up in a sly smile, but he only joined the others in agreeing to Leif’s terms.

Upon receiving a very disappointed glare from Leif, Alistair and Oghren both mumbled some sort of apology.

After sticking around just long enough to make sure Nathaniel’s sister didn’t need someone to tell her off in the same way that Alistair’s sister had, Anders, Alistair, and Leif had defeated the smuggler’s ring that had been causing problems for civilians and guardsmen alike.

Mindful of Anders, Leif decided not to pursue several wanted apostates and instead they’d followed a strange series of clues leading to a young man who had hung himself due to his own failures.

After letting his wife know she was now a widow, Leif gave Alistair a moment to catch up with the Maker. Leif sought solace in rooting through the Lost and Found box at the Chantry. He found a sort of sad-looking mess of yarn, which he’d tucked into the bag, and decided he’d make into a scarf. 

Anders was just ending a conversation with a rather angry-looking young lady when they caught up with him.

“An old flame,” he cheerfully announced. And then, after Alistair cleared his throat in a meaningful way, Anders added: “But one that I’m quite done with.”

When they were waiting for Nathaniel in the marketplace and after several merchants had asked for aid in recovering lost goods, Anders pulled Leif aside.

“I can explain,” he offered. His tone was low and his words were meant only for Leif, which was only to be expected. He was a bit slow to trust the others, particularly Alistair, despite plenty of evidence that Alistair was not (and never had been) much of a Templar. “In fact I might need your help.”

Playing the role of mediator and confidante was a familiar one. Leif was used to being in charge of groups that didn’t care overmuch for each other, and he’d learned that patience was often the most important quality a leader could possess. He supposed he had Sten to thank for that. And Shale.

“All right,” Leif agreed.

“And really there’s nothing there. I’m not so afraid of a Templar that I’d lie to you.”

“I didn’t think you would.”

Anders smiled. “Well, that’s something.”

-

More letters had arrived at the Keep, and the Keep’s mason wanted a word so Leif dismissed everyone else again.

After handing over far more coin than he would have liked for repairs, Leif strolled around the grounds. He was starting to wonder if he’d ever get to something more important, but if darkspawn were attacking settlements, he would need to start there before he visited the Blackmarsh or Knotwood Hills. Or the Withering Wood. But he missed the near-constant battles of his own adventures. He missed--

Eventually he heard something mewing from near his feet and something brushing along his legs.

“Hello there,” Leif said, glancing down at the kitten. It mewed again and then began to paw at his boots. “Well. Maybe Anders will get everything he wants after all.”

He knelt down and held out a hand.

The kitten sniffed the back of it and mewed again.

“Um. Nice kitty,” Leif suggested. “Right?”

The kitten simply tilted its little head.

“Well, here’s hoping.” Then he picked the little thing up. Leif carried it somewhat gingerly, wary of being scratched because cats could always tell when a human was a dog person. When it started purring, he decided that meant they had reached some sort of amicable truce and he held the kitten more snugly against his chest.

Leif was in the middle of unraveling a yarn tangle that might have been an ill-conceived scarf when Leliana joined him in the dining hall. He was sitting alone on a bench close to the hearth and the kitten was on the ground. It seemed to be alternating between trying to eat yarn and pouncing on Leif’s right boot as if it was a particularly large mouse made of leather.

“A kitten!” Leliana exclaimed as Leif entered the dining hall. “Oh but you’re precious.”

“He seems a bit malnourished.”

“I meant that you’re precious,” Leliana insisted, ruffling Leif’s hair. “And a bit ridiculous sitting here with knitting with a tiny kitten at your feet. Is there anything you won’t rescue?”

“I’m not knitting yet and it won’t be precious if he dies. I have no idea what to feed the thing. Where is everyone else?”

“Playing Wicked Grace with the guards. I was banned after three hands if you can believe it.”

“I can, actually.”

“I have some answers in terms of the plot to harm you,” she said, lightly punching his arm. “But I will only tell you if I may go with you to the Blackmarsh tomorrow. This Keep is dull and I refuse to be cooped up any longer.”

“I was going to ask you anyway.”

“Sweet liar,” Leliana said but her tone was mocking and warm at the same time. “You haven’t thought about who to bring outside of your Anders.”

“He’s hardly my anything.”

“We’ll see,” she said cheerfully. “So what is this you’re making?”

“A mess. Oh no you don’t,” Leif scolded reaching down to scoop up the kitten who was batting at a loose bit of green thread. He set the little thing down near one of the legs of the bench. “Yarn is for people. You go scratch up the furniture like a good little miscreant. There’s a good kitty.”

Leliana was still grinning at him when he glanced back over at her. “I suppose this project is not for me, but would you consider making me something?”

“Sure. Maybe some soft blue socks to go with your shoes. I’m sure we can get some proper material after trade’s been restored.”

“I do love you so,” Leliana cooed. “Even if this is the first I’m hearing about your crafting skills. How have you managed to keep it a secret?”

“I thought someone would figure it out after I gave Alistair that golem doll. But since no one seemed to notice that the Wonders of Thedas had stopped carrying toys ages ago, I decided not to say anything because I knew the lot of you would expect more presents.”

“I see.” She paused before laughing. “Ah ha. You’re making something for Anders. What is it?”

Leif colored slightly. He gave the bard a mildly vexed look before rolling his eyes. “A scarf if you must know.”

“It’s unfair of you to be so shy about him now,” Leliana gently pointed out. "You are my dear friend and I am chronicling your adventures. You have told me many a sad tale of the Circle complete with sighing and little sad looks. I wish to hear the happy ones as well.”

“Isn’t that…all a bit mushy? Not to mention private?”

“I have shared a great deal of my own private romantic escapades with you.”

“Well, yes, but you like talking about yourself.” And it wasn’t like Leif had asked her to share as much as she had.

“I am going to pretend I was not just insulted,” Leliana said. “Provided I am not left in the cold.”

“All right but… In time. If there is something to tell.”

“There already is, but if you fear he’s losing interest already perhaps I shall tell him all about your pining and—”

“Don’t you dare,” Leif insisted. “I told you that in confidence. Besides I didn’t think you’d meet him. I didn’t think I’d even see him again.”

“All the more reason not to let this chance slip through your fingers. Else I will find a creative way to force you to Antiva City. Zevran’s still pining, I’m sure.”

“For both of us, according to the letter he sent.”

Leliana laughed. “Well, we are lovely, yes?”

“We’re all right,” Leif said. He laughed when she lightly punched his shoulder again.

 “Are you two gossiping?” Alistair asked, sitting down on a bench across from them. “Maker, I hope it’s not about me.”

“I don’t know why you always think it’s about you,” Leliana mused, lips curving up into a smirk. “It rarely is, you know.  Although Morrigan always had a lot of questions about the size of your—”

Alistair let out a pain-filled squawk of indignation and scowled when Leif laughed at him. “Minding my own business again, thanks.”

Anders sighed as he crossed over to them. He motioned for Leliana to find a new seat and then smirked when she rolled her eyes. All the same, she moved and Anders sat down next to Leif. “Your dwarf cheats. And very well too.”

“You were warned,” Leliana said without a trace of sympathy.

Anders sighed. “I thought I’d learned a considerable amount during my stay at the Pearl but alas… Not enough.”

“You worked at the Pearl?” Alistair asked.

Anders raised an eyebrow. “Hardly. I frequented it during several escape attempts. Most memorably my first, but the sixth time wasn’t bad either.”

“Ah,” Alistair said with a sympathetic smile. “Little did you know that Templars spend a decent amount of coin at brothels?”

Anders shrugged, picking up the tangled mess of yarn and gently yanking strands apart. “Something like that. What are you making?”

Leif smiled. “Nothing yet.”

“Hopefully something for me,” Anders decided. “I remember the one Satanalia where all the Enchanters got scarves from you and they were lovely. Granted I was able to get Enchanter Thekla to hand his over but you never made one for me.”

“He was awfully nice.”

Anders sighed. “Karl certainly was. Awfully good with his hands too. A shame they sent him off the way they did, but I’m sure he’s happy in Kirkwall. Not that it would matter to them if he wasn’t.”

Leif debated asking a bit more about the Enchanter, but decided he could ask about it later. Or wait for Anders to tell him. He doubted Anders would want to discuss it too much with Alistair. Or Leliana for that matter given her feelings about the Chantry.

“Could there be a golem doll in the near future?” Alistair asked, looking sheepish.

Leif frowned over at his friend. “Another golem doll? What happened to the one I made you?”

“Lost it.”

Leif sighed. “When I think of the hours I’ve spent getting you gifts only for you to lose every single one of them…”

“I will treasure my gifts always,” Leliana said solemnly, but her eyes indicated a bit of mischief.

Alistair scowled. “That’s not fair. At all. I didn’t mean to lose mine, did I?”

“But everyone else kept theirs. Even Sten and Oghren. Even Shale.”

“Yes but Oghren drank all of them, didn’t he?” Alistair muttered. “And Sten ate his. And Shale’s a bit cruel. Some of us want more from life than liquor and baked goods and dead birds.”

Leif laughed. “That’s true.”

“Anyway, I think it’s just the golem doll. Well, and little griffin that wandered off,” Alistair protested. “I’ve taken much better care of the rest, I swear.”

Anders gave Alistair a look. “If you can’t be responsible, you’ll have to wait your turn. I want a scarf and-- Hold on. Is that a kitten?”

Leif chuckled. “I was wondering when someone would notice.”

Anders crouched down and grinned. “A kitten!” It mewed in response, sniffing at Anders’ hand. It mewed a bit louder when it was picked up, but it didn’t seem to mind too much. “Where did you come from? Maker but you’re adorable. Yes you are. I bet you’re hungry. But you’re mostly adorable. What a precious little thing.”

Alistair made a face and Leif fought against the urge to make one himself.

“Aw, he’s a cat person,” Leliana said. “How sweet.”

“That’s one word for it,” Alistair muttered.

Anders was still cooing over the kitten and rubbing its nose with his own. “What a cute little meow. What a cute little face too. Who do you belong then? Would you like to come live with me? You can live right here.”

Leif rubbed the back of his neck, wondering if maybe he’d made some sort of terrible mistake.

“I’m going to be sick,” Alistair said. “Especially if he keeps talking like that. He doesn’t talk to you like that, right? …You know what? Never tell me.”

Leliana was beaming in Anders’ direction. “You’ve made such a good choice, Leif.”

The kitten mewed a bit and Anders fussed over it some more.

“The kitten was for you,” Leif reluctantly admitted. He nodded his thanks to Alistair who had come over to give him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Only… Anders, you’re sort of embarrassing at the moment. So now I’m not so sure.”

Anders laughed, sitting back down on the bench. “That’s too bad because you can’t take back a gift. You’re too nice and it’s simply not done, is it, Ser Pounce-A-Lot? No it’s not.”

“Maker preserve us all,” Alistair grumbled.

“…Ser Pounce-A-Lot?” Leif asked.

“It’s a perfect name for a perfect kitten. Even better for a cat for soon Ser Pounce-A-Lot will grow into a cleverly lethal killer, the scourge of Templars everywhere.”

 “That settles it,” Alistair announced, clapping his hands together. “As fun as this has been what with Anders talking to some poor kitten as though it were the thickest simpleton in all of Thedas… I’m going to see if Oghren needs any help drinking. I’d like to just forget the last fifteen minutes of my life if I can.”

Leliana laughed. “I’ll go with you. Although I don’t think I will forget. Poor Nathaniel slept through this, after all. Someone will need to tell him all about it over breakfast.”

“You two are the worst friends ever,” Leif observed.

“That’s us,” Alistair agreed.

“I’m sorry to have shamed you in front of your companions,” Anders said once they had left. But he didn’t bother looking even the least bit sincere.

“You ought to be,” Leif agreed. “That was intensely mortifying and I need to be honest with you… I’m more a dog person. I have a dog, actually. She’s not here but she’s very real and we’re very close. I’m sorry.”

Anders laughed and kissed him soundly.

“Don’t fret. I’m sure you’re a cat person as well,” he decided before making sure Ser Pounce-A-Lot was properly fed and coddled a little while longer.

Once the kitten had tired of the attention and found a warm spot next to the fire in which to doze, Anders remained on the floor nearby. He leaned back against Leif’s legs until he was done winding all of the yarn into balls. Leif thanked him for the task by carding his fingers against Anders’ scalp and though Anders’ hair.

“So just how many gifts have you handed out?” Anders asked after awhile.

“I never kept count. But I liked giving gifts. It’s not something I could always do back at the Circle. Once I had things that were mine… Some of the people I traveled with had never received a gift before and it felt really wonderful to give some of it away. That’s what you do when you have friends.”

Anders nodded. He got back to his feet and when he sat down on the bench, he wrapped an arm around Leif’s waist. “Does that mean I get more too?”

Leif hesitated before leaning against Anders’ shoulder and considering the embers of the fireplace in front of them. “Well, you have the kitten.”

“Who has a name, I think you’ll find.”

Leif sighed then smiled when Anders kissed him. “Fine. You have Ser… Pounce-A-Lot. And I want to make you a scarf. Eventually you’ll get more than that.”

“Brilliant. What would you like?”

“This,” Leif said quietly.

“Well, that’s hardly anything,” Anders said, kissing Leif’s hair. “But don’t worry. I’ll come up with something.”

“You don’t mind if… I mean surely you have…”

“What?”

“More exciting partners.” The elf woman from earlier. Possibly Enchanter Thekla. Various people at the Pearl.

“We’ve only just started getting to know one another,” Anders pointed out. “But as much as I did like visiting the Pearl or spending engaging in extracurricular activities with attractive mages, I can’t recall any of these allegedly more exciting people hoping I’d turn up again on their doorstep again. Nor would I count on them to save me from a gaggle of Templars. Or giving me anything… Well, anything worth being given. But there was this one barmaid—”

“Stop,” Leif protested.

Anders grinned. “Already?”

“I just… Does this end with you getting some filthy temporary illness?”

“What? Maker, no. Honestly, you tell people you’ve been to a brothel and suddenly every story you tell is supposed to end in venereal disease.” Anders snorted. “No, of course not. I spent the night with her and a well-endowed male friend of hers and then she gave me some clothes so I could disguise myself. A dress, you understand. And while it wasn’t the greatest gift, it helped. I made for a decent woman.”

“That’s…” Leif sighed. “Please, please, please don’t tell Alistair about that.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Anders said affecting solemnity. “Kissing me is generally the best way to keep me quiet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay! 
> 
> My father's been in the hospital this week and so I've mostly been trying to find ways of coping away from my computer. The good news is he's on the mend, which means hopefully I'll be able to focus more on fandom-related things very soon.


	6. Chapter Six

It was strange and reassuring for Anders to follow him upstairs night after night over the course of the next week. Eventually they’d moved on from quiet conversations and holding one another to kissing and caressing, but something always delayed them from moving beyond that. Suffice it to say that no one at Vigil’s Keep had a very keen sense of timing.

Their trip to the Blackmarsh was delayed for several days thanks to the darkspawn lurking on a farmstead, darkspawn lurking just under the Keep, and Varel’s concerns about the murder plot. Not to mention what the hunters had found in Knotwood Hills, which proved to be yet more darkspawn.

Needless to say they had quickly had their fill of gunlocks, hurlocks, and ogres by the time they needed to deal with the nobles plotting to eliminate Leif altogether, but Knotwood Hills had come first once the Keep had been cleared out.

The darkspawn had been particularly fierce and arriving too late to save a good portion of the Legion of the Dead not to mention being unable to stop a man from being lynched had been disheartening.The best part of the whole ordeal had been Sigrun, a dwarf warrior who was willing to join the Grey Wardens. She had also been willing to wait before venturing into Kal’Hirol, which was just as well. Leif wasn’t sure that Anders or Nathaniel were ready for a dwarven fortress immediately after contending with reanimated corpses and a possessed ogre. And he wasn’t looking forward to dealing with broodmothers.

“Soon enough,” Anders had growled out the night before their expedition to the Blackmarsh was set to finally begin. It was also after they’d been interrupted for the umpteenth time by Varel needing to borrow the Commander ‘for just a moment.’ “Soon enough I’m going to put wards and glyphs up around the door that even your Templar can’t cleanse. Then I’m going keep you in this bed until I’ve savored every perfect bit of you.”

Leif laughed, petting Anders’ cheek and flicking at the earring he’d given the other warden as a gift. “I’ll help.”

“Speaking of,” Anders muttered, nuzzling at Leif’s neck, “I hate to add to everything going on but I do have to ask for some of your help when we get back.”

“Oh?”

“That girl I was talking to back in the City proper was—” Anders chuckled. “The face you’re making…”

Leif colored slightly. “Sorry. I’d forgotten all about that and I—”

“Oh darling, you’re the only one I want to share a bed with,” Anders insisted with a smirk. “I said I was done with her and even if I wasn’t… Namya’s been done with me for a long time. But she’s a contact and it seems that my phylactery’s here.”

 “In Amaranthine? That seems… awfully convenient.”

Anders’ expression grew a bit more serious. “It does and yet it’s not like her to give me false information.”

“I don’t know if it matters much,” Leif mused. He’d often wondered about his own phylactery and what powers it still had over him, if any. “I don’t know if your blood is the same now or if that changes with the Taint. I never thought to ask anyone who might know either.”

“I imagine it’s a little of both,” Anders said. “All the same I think I’d get a great deal of satisfaction if I could crush the damned thing under my boot heel. And it’s not the only one they’re storing. Maybe yours—”

Leif shook his head. “Mine is still in Denerim. I… It never occurred to me to ask about it and by now I’m sure the Queen or the First Warden or...” He trailed off, feeling foolish for never getting the matter much thought.

“It might just be sitting around collecting dust,” Anders suggested, brushing a hand over Leif’s cheek. “Where ever it is, we can look for it. It’s not as if you’re a wanted fugitive from divine justice.”

“I know I just… Maker, sometimes I wonder what you even think of me.”

“How do you mean?”

Leif shook his head.

“You’re not used to seeing things the way I do,” Anders pointed out. “I’m used to looking over my shoulder all the time, used to a healthy amount of paranoia. When you’re running away you don’t have time to figure out who is a decent sort and who isn’t. You have.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t need your phylactery and so you forgot about it. That’s not really a big deal,” Anders insisted, kissing Leif’s cheek. “It’s not as if you’re the only mage who hasn’t devoted time and resources to locating their phylactery. And you’re probably the only one who doesn’t need to worry about it. I can’t imagine anyone in Ferelden who would want to use it against you, sweetheart. Not while there’s darkspawn about.”

“But I should have done,” Leif said. “I should have looked into it and not just expected everything to work out.”

“That’s bullshit,” Anders insisted. “Very few mages ever get their hands on their own phylactery and I doubt you would have been given it even if you asked. People who try to pick fights with you are decidedly suicidal and moronic, if you ask me. There’s a great deal of lethal people that anyone would have to cross to so much as touch you. And you’re pretty dangerous too. One little vial of blood won’t make or break you.”

“I suppose not.”

“You’re a hero and a good person. If you’re also a good mage then that’s all right. People should have to be aware that there are good mages out there. And if you don’t want to go around thinking everyone’s out to get you, then don’t.”

“It’s different for you.”

“It is,” Anders agreed. “Because I’m no hero and I’m certainly not a very good mage. I hate Templars and I hate the Circle and I don’t really feel like I belong anywhere most of the time outside of right here with you. So if you’re worried that I’m going to leave the second that vial hits the ground, I won’t. I don’t want to leave at all, not right now, but I like having that option. I just want to have that choice and I want to be done with the Templars. Done with rules and running. I am so sick of constantly wishing I could have what so many people have and take for granted and if— ”

“Stop, Anders. You don’t… You don’t have to explain,” Leif said gently, kissing Anders’ lips before tightening his arms around him. “I’ll help you. Of course I will. I always will. I mean that.”

Anders breathed out a long sigh, resting his head against Leif’s and looking away. “Thank you.”

“It’s just the truth.”

“That’s why I’m thanking you. You mean everything you say and do. I believe you and I believe in you. It’s strange. I don’t know if I like it much,” Anders admitted. “In this moment it’s… It’s rather perfect. But it’s much easier to expect nothing of people.”

“But then you end up with nothing, don’t you?”

“Nothing can’t hurt you.”

Leif didn’t know what else to say but he kept a tight grip on Anders for as long as he could.

-

Blackmarsh had taken much longer and gone in a much stranger direction than anyone could have expected. Talking darkspawn had a way of complicating things. As did insane baronesses, demons of various sins, and the ghost of a powerful dragon. Nathaniel, Sigrun, and Anders had more than proven their mettle but he did wish he’d thought things through and brought Alistair along.

And although they’d gone in seeking answers and Kristoff, so far all Leif had were more questions, a possessed corpse housing the spirit of Justice, and another woman to give bad news to. And likely more nightmares were on their way if the Mother was even remotely as disgusting as her Children.

On the way back to the Keep, and for the sake of his own piece of mind, Leif focused his attentions on Justice who was still reeling from everything that had happened to him.

The spirit seemed fascinated and horrified by the world around him. Currently he was taking comfort in holding on tightly to Leif’s last lyrium potion and listening to it sing. This was, of course, making everyone in the party a bit uncomfortable. For his part, Leif felt that uncertainly give way to warm regard as they discussed the differences and similarities between Justice’s fighting abilities and Leif’s continuing struggle with actually putting his small bit of elven heritage to actual use. And expressing his gratitude for Justice’s aid thus far. The pride demon wouldn’t have been impossible to defeat without him but the dragon might have been.

The mortal world wasn’t made in such a way that anyone could focus on one quality alone and it was full of injustices. Leif wasn’t sure yet how Justice could cope and even less sure than all of his companions could be relied upon to always be tactful in their interactions with the spirit. Particularly not when he was reanimating a corpse.

Leif also wasn’t looking forward to Alistair’s reaction but so far no one had questioned his decision and over the course of the ordeal, he’d made some actual progress with Nathaniel. Sigrun, of course, was very easy to get along with even if she had a tendency to quote torrid passages from lurid novels whenever Anders and Leif exchanged so much as a glance with one another.

“I don’t know about you lot but I’m starving,” Anders complained. “We’ve beaten nearly every kind of demon and a dragon and I realize we’re unlikely to encounter anything else but I certainly hope there is a feast prepared upon our return.”

“I’d like that,” Leif agreed before glancing up at Howe who was scouting a little ways ahead of them. “Quick, Nathaniel. Run along ahead and see that it is so.”

At first Howe looked extremely irritated but then he seemed to realize how absurd the request was. At which point he smirked. “Can’t you do it, Commander?”

“No,” Anders sternly demanded. “Healer’s orders.”

Sigrun laughed. “You ordered him to walk at a snail’s pace?”

“He is awfully slow, but his wounds are newly healed.”

“Someone could always carry me.”

Nathaniel chuckled. “I’d get right on it, Commander, but I would need some extra coin as an incentive.”

“Impossible. Those stupid re-fortifications to the Keep depleted our funds. Don’t tell Oghren.”

 “Then I’ll continue at my current pace,” Nathaniel decided. “And blackmail you later.”

“No fun in harassing an injured man,” Anders agreed. “Although I do like blackmail.”

“Thanks.”

“Does someone truly need to carry you?” Justice asked, looking relatively bemused and maybe a bit put upon. He wasn’t really used to mortals or their means for passing the time. “If it is indeed necessary, I would be willing to aid you if the others will not.”

“Thank you, but no. Going without food for a little while longer will make them appreciate it all the more.”

Although their feast was meager at best, Leif felt decidedly more relaxed and considerably worn out from so many battles.

He excused himself then made it up one flight of stairs before sitting against the railing, rubbing at his ribs. Pounce curled up against his side and he petted the kitten for a while.

“Aw, look at you two,” Anders called from the stairs below.

“We’re adorable,” Leif muttered.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it from this angle,” Anders pointed out before hurrying up to him. “It’s just as bad from this one too. And a kitten can only do so much.”

“I’m really fine. Just worn out.”

“Can you get to your feet?”

“With help?”

Anders laughed before hauling Leif upright. “Do you want to stagger, darling, or should I just help myself to the rest of your dignity?”

Leif sighed but he didn’t protest too much when Anders carried him the rest of the way to his—well, their room. He did stagger his way to the bed, however, before collapsing into it.

 Anders made quick work of undressing Leif before kissing every inch of him. Leif moaned quietly before curling up on his side.

“I think tomorrow we should do nothing at all,” Anders murmured, kissing Leif some more before running warm fingers over his hips. “Just stay here like this, hm?”

“We need to—”

“Recuperate? We do. I demand that we do. I want you all to myself.”

“But you need your phylactery.”

“It’ll keep. I’ve wanted you like this for weeks now. And here you are. Pliant and weary and so lovely.”

Leif fought back a yawn as he languidly returned a few kisses. “I want you to have me. Right now or later. But I don’t know much about this sort of thing. I mean, I know how I feel. I just don’t know…”

“I wasn’t worried before and I’m not worried about it now. As for feelings, well… I haven’t had much time for those. Until lately. I rather enjoy having some about you. Good ones, of course, although they do make me wish I could lock you back up in a tower where no one could make a single request of you.”

“I like your requests.”

“That’s because you’re mine,” Anders pointed out. “And my requests are vastly superior to the sort you’re accustomed to.”

“That’s true.”

“Don’t agree with me too much though, love. I’m not very modest as it is. Now. Back to the things I want to do with you.”

Anders kissed as the corner of Leif’s mouth, wrapping long fingers around the length of the other mage’s cock. He stroked gently, grinning a bit when Leif made a few soft gasps.

“You really haven’t done much, have you? Maker but it’s unfair.”

Leif murmured an agreement, arching back against the mattress as Anders continued to stroke him gently.

“We’ll do more but this is what we’ll do for now, I think. I’d like to watch you come first.”

“But you…”

“I get what I want far too often. Right now, in fact. You just enjoy yourself, Leif. I insist.”

Leif bit back a few moans before giving up on keeping quiet as Anders replaced his hands with his lips and tongue. It was a perfect means of getting lost in the moment. Forgetting whatever other roles he played and concentrating only on the way Anders made him feel.

Licking gave way to sucking and Leif finally climaxed, gripping lightly at Anders’ scalp.

“We can do more,” he said when he could think of anything to say.

“Oh we will,” Anders agreed.

After a brief respite, Leif had shyly but no less eagerly given Anders exactly what he’d been given earlier in the evening. As he’d stroked and sucked Anders’ cock, he’d felt as ease but afterwards he’d suddenly found himself nervous about the whole thing.

He remained with his forehead pressed to Anders’ hipbone until the other mage dragged him back up.

“Aren’t you sweet?” Anders had cooed but his tone indicated only pleasure and affection. “That was perfect and your first. Lucky me. You have no idea how much I wanted to be your first.”

“I’m a bit old to have waited…”

“Hardly. You’ve only been your own person for a handful of years at best. Now’s the best time to make those decisions.”

“Says the mage with a vested interest.”

Anders laughed. “That doesn’t make me wrong, love. Let’s try something a bit more, shall we?”

“All right.”

“Would you like to be able to see me?”

“See you?”

“You probably would,” Anders murmured. “The first time at any rate.”

Leif colored slightly, brushing his fingers over Anders’ cheek. The other mage caught his hand and slowly kissed each of his fingers. “Is that all right?”

“More than. Maker but you fret so. And always over me. You needn’t. I’m really not hard to please and even if I were, this is just what I want.”

“Sorry.”

Anders shrugged, smiling sympathetically. “It’s flattering at least. Now, here you go,” he purred gently putting the fingers of one hand into Leif’s mouth. “Suck on these, darling.”

Leif turned a bit redder before shyly ducking his head and doing as he’d been instructed. He bit gently at Anders’ fingertips more than once as he sucked on each digit.

He squirmed a bit when a finger entered him, moaning a bit against the sheets as more fingers jointed it, and then against Anders’ mouth when the other mage began kissing him.

When Anders’ cock replaced his fingers, Leif gasped, grabbing at the other mage’s shoulders as he was pushed back against the mattress. There was more than a little pain but pleasure too, and he savored the way Anders looked at him, eager to do whatever it took to be the focus of that attention for as long as it could last.

When they were done, he held onto Anders for several minutes before eventually letting Anders’ move back and pull out.

“You can have me again,” Anders assured him.

“Then can we do that again tonight? Can I do that to you?” He wasn’t sure he had a preference exactly but Leif did like the idea of having Anders beneath him. Once he had more of an idea of what he was doing.

“As if you needed to ask,” Anders wryly replied before endeavoring to kiss each of Leif’s freckles in turn. “Certainly, my accommodating pupil. Tonight and tomorrow you’ll get plenty, but all of this can be done however you like, whenever you like.”

-

Leif let Anders tell Varel that he needed a day to recover, and it was true. He felt a bit sore after the evening and more than a little on edge from a series of nightmares even though the contents of them disappeared the second he opened his eyes.

Anders had nestled him back into the blankets and coaxed him back to sleep. But even that didn’t last for long. So eventually Leif gave up lying down altogether and asked servants to draw a bath for him.

He was still curled up in warm water staring at nothing in particular when Anders joined him, sitting on a chair next to the tub.

“Your hair’s getting longer,” Anders pointed out. “Could I give you one of those little braids again? I liked them.”

“I want to keep it short until this is over. Sometimes the darkspawn grab at your hair... I’ve always hated that.”

Anders’ expression darkened considerably before he nodded. “Never mind then. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes. It could be worse anyway. During the Blight, I dreamt about the Archdemon screaming orders to the horde. And then it would see me and I’d force myself awake.”

“Did it really see you?”

“The Taint works both ways,” Leif said with a sigh. “The older you are and the longer you’ve been tainted, the more you can learn from the enemy. So it probably managed a bit better than I did. Towards the end, it even found our camp.”

“Which didn’t matter much and the end,” Anders concluded with a small smile. “Whatever is behind this doesn’t stand much of a chance. I almost feel sorry for it. Then I think about getting to finally kill whatever it is and I’m content.”

Leif smiled back, reaching up to brush a hand over Anders’ cheek. “It will be satisfying, won’t it?”

Anders leaned into the touch and sighed. “Very. Not as much as other things though. Are you almost done soaking?”

“Nearly.”

“Good. I seem to recall someone sweetly demanding my undivided attention last night in the most adorable way. And I mean to have him.”

In between being taken and being instructed on how to take in return, Leif buried himself against Anders, cherishing the feel of warm arms around him.

“I never did tell you,” Anders murmured after awhile. “I always wanted to. I’m so sorry about that day, the way I treated you.”

“It wasn’t personal.”

“All the same, it wasn’t how I wanted to behave. Especially around you. You was so skittish around me and I wanted you to be more comfortable.”

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“But in that moment, I might have. I was desperate. Like some sort of hunted animal. I still feel that way at times. If I think too much about Kinloch Hold.”

“I forgave you even if I didn’t understand. When I left the Circle, your running away all the time made more sense. I hadn’t considered what it would be like to remember being somewhere else or belonging to someone else. I didn’t know what it meant to want anything more than what we had there.”

Anders sighed heavily. “I was ten when the Templars came. I remember the look on my mother’s face. I remember being so angry and helpless. Afraid of what they’d do as they took everything away from me. I worked to become a mage so they couldn’t threaten me with anything worse and it did nothing. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get far enough away.”

“And where are you now?”

“Here with you. But beyond that, I don’t know. Maybe after my phylactery’s gone… Maybe then it will be different.”

Leif kissed Anders’ cheek and then his lips. “If not, we’ll think of something else.”

“Maybe,” Anders agreed. “It’s thanks to you that I got this far. I should warn you about something.”

“Oh?”

“If you’re going to be so endearing and delightful then you’re going to be stuck with me. I’ve never had someone like you and I want to keep you.”

“And I want to stay with you,” Leif admitted, feeling a little awkward about it. He wasn’t sure how much was too much and he didn’t want to lose Anders by saying the wrong thing. “I want to help.”

Anders smiled. He tried to soothe himself or maybe both of them by petting Leif’s hair. “I know. You always want to help, but… how I wish you didn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And sex finally happens.
> 
> Apologies for the delay. Hospital stuff got in the way but I have plenty more to post and plenty more to write. Hopefully whoever is reading this is enjoying it! :)


	7. Chapter Seven

“These seem a bit…ostentatious,” Leif said as he considered the robes he had recently been presented with. He did like the blue and white pattern as well as the griffin breastplate. But they seemed very… well, Orlesian.

“An official armor set for you. At last,” Mistress Woolsey had declared. “The Regalia of Weissupt sent by the First Warden himself.”

“I sincerely hope it’s just a coincidence that it’s such a flattering color on you,” Alistair mused.

Sigrun grinned. “Hey, even if the First Warden is being a bit creepy, at least he was able to find you some better armor that complements your eyes. And quite nicely.”

“Because you two aren’t being weird at all,” Leif muttered before heading back up to his chambers so he could put the new armor on.

Upon returning downstairs, Leif found that he needed to soothe a somewhat conflicted Justice who still wasn’t sure how to feel about Kristoff's widow, Aura. Her initial reaction weighed heavily on the spirit's mind. 

“Give me an hour’s time and we’ll go speak to her,” Leif offered. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Justice. I don’t think there was a right way to handle this.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

 “Careful there. I think he’s imprinting on you,” Alistair muttered once Leif joined his companions. Justice had left to look over Kristoff’s belongings, all of which he’d been given as a spur of the moment gift.

“Be respectful,” Leif insisted. “He’s the Spirit of Justice not a lost duckling.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Leliana said. “He must have been so lonely in the Fade.”

“I think it’s disgusting and that I’m trying to eat breakfast,” Nathaniel put in.

“Seconded,” Anders muttered around a mouthful of toast.

Neither of the dwarves seemed to have much of an opinion one way or the other.

When it came time to head into the city, Leif brought Anders, Justice, and Sigrun. The others were left to contend with anything remaining underneath the Keep. And although he didn’t really need either companion to help Justice with Aura, but he knew he could trust both Sigrun and Justice not to have an issue with Anders’ phylactery.

Justice had an endless amount of questions for Anders though, and his general reaction seemed to indicate that he wasn’t always pleased with the mage’s responses.

“He is selfish,” Justice coolly observed when they entered the Chantry. Sigrun had gone off to look at shiny rocks at some stand in the marketplace. Anders had simply refused to enter the place. “He is utterly unconcerned with the plight of his own people.”

“Sometimes you can’t help but be selfish. He has to sort out his own plight, after all, before he can help anyone else.”

“And what of you? You strive to help others at all times. Surely others could do the same.”

“I strive to help others because it makes me happy to do so.”

Justice was quiet for a moment. Then: “He makes you happier.”

Leif hesitated then answered: “Yes. I care for him a great deal.”

“Confusing,” Justice said quietly. “I appreciate your honesty. I will have to think on this when time permits.”

Leif drew back when Justice approached Aura but he was careful to pay attention to the conversation first out of concern and then out of sympathy. Her attitude was so admirable and yet her pain was so evident. Losing someone you loved and then having some small part of them appear right in front of you at the same time was entirely too much to bear.

He looked away when she moved to touch Justice’s cheek. The spirit seemed at a loss, but he simply agreed to her terms. Mentioning the darkspawn again was all it took to send her packing.

“And she is gone. Did I do the right thing?”

Leif sighed heavily. “I think so, yes.”

“She loved this man and he loved her,” Justice said after a moment. “I envy what they had. I… must think carefully on this as well.” He glanced over at Leif, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“If you need to go back to the Keep, you can, Justice. This other task won’t take very long.”

“There is no need for me to depart. You have aided me and I will aid you.”

They performed small menial tasks around the City and its outskirts until the sunset. Then they headed into the abandoned warehouse where there was virtually nothing at all to be found.

“No guards,” Anders observed as they hunted for phylacteries. “That’s something.”

“Something suspicious,” Sigrun muttered, kicking open a chest. “And there’s nothing here.”

“Oh there’s something,” Leif said, taking a peek into the small adjoining room where Ser Rylock and several other Templars were waiting. “Just not the sort of thing we were looking for.”

Ser Rylock entered the main room of the warehouse. She was flanked by her officers and offering up a thin smirk. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist, Anders, but I am surprised that you aren’t alone,” she said.

“Of course. It would be you, wouldn’t it?” Anders muttered.

Rylock ignored him, studying Leif carefully. “You ought to have known better, Commander. Anders will never submit. Not to anyone. Not to you.”

“Pardon me but… Exactly why do you think I’m here with Anders?” Leif asked. “Because honestly to me it would seem like I was helping him.”

“And why is that?”

“He asked and I agreed. He’s made a fine Grey Warden so far.”

“So far. But then you’re a mage too. And quite misguided. Not at all the Hero that Ferelden deserves if this is the company you keep.”

“Watch what you say,” Justice said. “Particularly about our Commander.”

Rylock couldn’t seem to decide what to make of the possessed corpse in front of her so she focused on Anders. “It is up to me to make sure this murderer is never a bother to anyone again.”

“What?” Anders asked. “You can’t do anything about me at all now. I’ve been conscripted and everything. Queen Anora allowed it.”

“The Chantry’s authority supersedes the crown in this matter.” Rylock glanced over at Leif. “You cannot hide without the Grey Warden ranks. It cannot be allowed.”

“He is not hiding. I cannot allow you to take one of my men,” Leif insisted.

“Justice must be served.”

“How dare you invoke my name when you threaten this worthy mortal beside me?” Justice demanded to know.

Rylock arched a brow in his direction before crossing her arms. “I do not know what foul magic is being used here, but I would be willing to overlook it if you left now. If you or your companions interfere, I will be only too glad to deal with you as well.”

“Lady, what is wrong with you?” Sigrun asked. “We’ve got two mages, a zombie, and a dwarf and you think you can take us?”

“There is no need for violence,” Leif began.

“I’m glad you’re willing to see reason.”

“It would be nice if you would do the same,” Leif said, “or at least let me finish a sentence because the fact is that Anders is staying with the Grey Wardens.”

“Maybe you should point out that if she pursues her current course of action, she will be dead momentarily. For the sake of fairness,” Justice said.

“Or don’t,” Anders suggested. “Her momentary death sounds delightful to me.”

“Anders and Justice, you are not helping at all,” Leif growled out.

“It’s hardly surprising that you would remain stubborn,” Rylock said. “The Grey Wardens has always been a haven for criminals and maleficar.” She sighed; shaking her head as though she felt the situation was lamentable. Maybe she did, but Leif highly doubted it. “I do not know how you inspire such loyalty, Anders, but it will avail you not. Now come with us.”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Leif insisted. “And certainly not with you.”

“If you think I don’t mind seeing you put in your place, Commander,” Rylock said with a sneer, “you’re quite wrong indeed. I need not kill you to render you harmless and Anders hardly needs to be fit to stand trial for his crimes. I’m sure the Queen will understand, and if she does not, the Maker will.”

“Right. I’ve had more than enough of you,” Anders said. “Have a fireball. On the house.”

Moments later, Justice was right. Rylock had pursued her course of action and she had died, but it hardly felt like much of a victory. Anders seemed very pleased, but Leif couldn’t manage much of anything, let alone a smile.

He watched Sigrun and Anders ransack the warehouse then followed his Wardens back to the Keep, occasionally being herded along by a silent Justice.

-

“What is the matter?” Anders asked when they were alone and heading up to Leif’s chambers. “What’s wrong?”

Once they were on the other side of the door, Leif wrapped his arms around Anders and leaned against one of his feather-covered shoulders.

“Could you please say something?” Anders tried again.

“You can’t follow leads like that on your own,” Leif said quietly. “You won’t. Promise.”

Anders sighed heavily. “I wasn’t alone if you recall, but all right. I promise to drag you along into the next obvious trap I learn about. Andraste’s ass, but I’m thick at times.”

“If you weren’t a Grey Warden or if I wasn’t with you, what would have happened?”

“I might have held my own for a bit. Or I might have been hacked to bits. Or hung from the nearest tree. The Maker’s all for it, apparently.”

“I’m being serious.”

 “I’m being serious too, love. She was never going to take me to the Circle, not when there was even the slightest chance that someone there would listen to a word I said.”

“But how… How can that be allowed? How can things like that just happen?”

“They happen over time. They happen all the time,” Anders said in a very matter-of-fact tone. “The Templars have always been fed up with uppity mages who don’t just take what they’re given and throw themselves to the ground in a demonstration of gratitude. But usually they root them out long before they take the Harrowing. I’m one of many examples of their failings and since I can’t be made Tranquil, other solutions were bound to be considered.”

“And even so you keep running away?”

Anders nodded instantly, brushing fingers through Leif’s hair. “Freedom isn’t something that I want only when it’s easily obtainable. It’s something I want all of the time and something still just beyond my reach, it seems.”

“If I could give it to you, I could. I just… I feel… I’m so sorry,” Leif said. “I’ve only made things worse.”

“How?”

“A Grey Warden isn’t free, and freedom’s what you want.”

Anders considered this before tugging Leif over to the bed. They helped each other undress before curling up in the middle of the mattress. Leif rested his head against Anders’ chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“I hate that she was going to kill you,” Leif murmured.

“I know.”

“And I hate that there’s more people out there and that I have no idea who they are or what they do or what they even look like.”

“I know that too.”

“And I hate that I conscripted you, Anders. I took away the one thing you want and I don’t know how to give it back.”

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s all right. It’s perfectly fine.”

“But it doesn’t change anything for you.”

“I never thought it would change all that much,” Anders confessed, kissing Leif’s cheek. “I’m grateful, of course, but I wasn’t expecting this would make a difference.”

“I don’t know why I did.”

“You’re taken with me, darling.  You want only good things to happen to me. I’m of the same mind but I’ve learned to be a bit more cynical over the years.”

“If Rylock felt the Chantry couldn’t ignore the threat you posed…”

“She’s not the only one,” Anders agreed. “A wayward apostate must be dealt with whether he becomes a Grey Warden or no.”

“What can I do, Anders? Tell me and I’ll do it.”

Anders considered this before shaking his head. “Don’t give so much away so freely.”

“I want to. For you.”

“I think you’ve done enough, haven’t you? It’s not going to do wonders for your reputation if you stand up for me let alone stick by me.”

“I don’t give up on people I care about and I really, really care about you.”

Anders smiled but there wasn’t much mirth or warmth to it. “I’m not asking you to give up on people. Just me. Or at least I’m suggesting we ought to part ways a bit. This is a great deal to ask of anyone and you’re attached to me already so I’d rather let you go now than hurt you later on. Whatever direction I’m heading in, whenever I move in it… It’ll be a great deal different than the life you have now, Leif. You’ll certainly lose what you have here. Maybe even a few titles along the way. Maybe everything.”

"I don't care."

"You might."

“Everything I've been given here seems more like a reward than it actually is,” Leif muttered. “It’s an experiment to see what sort of role I can be allowed to play in the grand scheme of things. Woolsey reports back to the First Warden about me and for all I know half the servants here report back to the Queen.”

“Queen Anora seems to like you well enough.”

“Only because I didn’t kill her father. Alistair did. What I have here is perfectly fine but it isn’t really mine and I only was given it because of the darkspawn. My titles all stem from the same sinister origin. Did I earn them? Certainly. Do they mean much to me? No. I want…” Leif closed his eyes as he sighed. “I want…”

Anders frowned thoughtfully. “It’s all right to want something. Or someone.”

“I know that but maybe you’re better off—”

Anders laughed, sitting up and pulling Leif along with him. “Just forget about me for a moment, will you? If you’re going to be selfish and refuse to listen to me, then be completely selfish. Commit to it.”

Leif took a deep breath and let it out. “Then… I want you. Whatever that entails.”

“Even if it means leaving all of this behind?”

“To the Void with all of this,” Leif muttered, ducking his head. He didn’t like being disloyal but he couldn’t help thinking it was time he chose people over places. He didn’t want to turn being a Grey Warden into a replacement for Kinloch Hold. “Once the darkspawn are gone, I doubt they’ll let me remain here anyway. I want to go with you. I always did, and I’m so very tired of doing what’s expected of me.”

He felt a twinge of guilt at how freed he felt by the realization that, regardless of the consequences, he could leave. The thought of abandoning his burdensome post and position for something unknown with Anders was refreshing. He could only imagine how horrified Alistair or Leliana would be to learn that doing the Maker or the First Warden’s work didn’t exactly imbue his life with meaning, but that was tempered by reflecting on how proud Zevran and Morrigan would be of him.

“My but you’ve been easy to corrupt,” Anders teased. “What a naughty little Commander of the Grey you are.”

“We’re nearly the same height,” Leif testily pointed out. “And there’s still plenty of time for me to change my mind.”

Anders laughed, leaning in to kiss Leif’s ear before moving his lips down to the Commander’s throat. “You think there is but there isn’t,” he said with a grin. “Now that I know you’re so eager to be with me, I have no choice but to keep you. You’re perfect, really. Handsome, kind, completely besotted with me…”

“You’re handsome and kind,” Leif pointed out, wanting to be just as complimentary. “And funny and clever.”

“Oh hush. I’m a bit besotted with you too,” Anders admitted with a sheepish grin. “This is just what I’ve always wanted. Considering all the nonsense you’ve been hording away, you’re more likely to keep me in the style to which I’m growing accustomed and that’s quite a perk as well.”

Leif rolled his eyes before chuckling. “That’s horrible. You’re a horrible person.”

Anders laughed. “Not at all. I’m sure you’ve got enough relics and gems lying around to pay for a nice little manor house in Tevinter. Then we can melt down all those useless weapons you’re saving for no apparent reason and keep the jewels for bracelets and necklaces and rings for you. And I can finally be a Magister and I’ll allow you to be my bewitching apprentice. Or the treasured slave in my harem. You can decide which one appeals to you more.”

“This is my fault for telling you to dream big, isn’t it?”

“More than likely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to have a chapter up either later this week or early next week. As always, thanks for reading! :)


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